


Halcyon

by Genuinelies



Category: Weiss Kreuz, Weiß Kreuz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:05:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9105967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Genuinelies/pseuds/Genuinelies
Summary: The boys struggle to find themselves.Post-OVA, this deals with the aftermath.(Originally posted to LJ - this is an old!fic that I'm re-posting here for posterity)





	1. Chapter 1

  
"Aya-kun..."  
  
Aya looked up from the counter, scissors coming together to cut the tip of a rose stem. Afternoon sun gave the shop a clean, shadowed glow. He had stayed after hours with Omi to prepare arrangements for the next day, and they were working only with natural light. His choice - but Omi hadn't questioned it. Aya, for his part, preferred the dusky half-light to artificial brightness.  
  
Omi was sincerely waiting for his permission to speak.   
  
"Yes," he added to his pause.   
  
"The mission...a few days ago..."  
  
The reminder fell like a block of ice into his gut.   
  
_They were ordered to kill one another._ He knew they'd all had nightmares about it since. Himself included.  
  
"It's not worth thinking about," Aya said tightly. He was holding the scissors like a sword, pointed upward, the other hand dropped by his side.   
  
Omi's eyelids dipped, but when he met Aya's gaze again his expression was earnest. "I just have one question," he said softly. He shifted a large turquoise vase he had propped on his stomach.   
  
Aya met his stare evenly, and repeated shortly, "It's over. Try not to think about it." He turned back to the flowers. They looked like felled bodies, spread out on the countertop before him.   
  
"Y-Yohji-kun said..." His teammate's voice wavered from behind him, then strengthened, "Is it true, Aya? Would you really have killed us, if that's what Kritiker had ordered? If it hadn't been a lie?"  
  
Aya's violet eyes widened, his head jerking up, but he was facing away from Omi.   
  
_Omi, wrapped in a wire.  
  
Ken coming at him, bugnuks open. Blade and claws sparking.  
  
Weiss, dead.   
  
...but for Manx with an unexpected allergy. _  
  
Aya closed his eyes, the opened them, expression impassive. He didn't turn. "Wouldn't you?" He picked up a flower, snipped off its base. "We work for Kritiker."  
  
There was a long silence. Aya turned, genuinely surprised.   
  
Omi's eyes shone in the dim light, but he could have sworn they were glistening.   
  
"They would never ask that," Aya offered. Kritiker would never trust them enough.   
  
"A-Aya. I wouldn't." Omi replied. He blinked, slowly. His expression was smoothed back into one of almost-cheerfulness. "I wouldn't. I would never turn against you, or Yohji-kun, or Ken-kun. Even if Kritiker asked it. I didn't think..." his expression faltered, but then he nodded, as if accepting what he saw before him. "Like you said, it doesn't matter, and it's better not to think about it. I don't think they would ever ask that, either." He turned, and set the vase on the windowsill. He went and grabbed a broom to begin cleaning up his station.  
  
Aya blinked at Omi, then carefully placed the scissors on the counter, leaning on them with one hand.   
  
His eyes were wide again, emotion slipping through, but Omi wasn't watching.  
  
 _He had never answered the question._  
  
*****  
  
Aya stepped, thrust, drew back, swung around. Footwork executed with precision and grace.   
  
His sword was unsteady.   
  
_You'll be killed in an instant if you concentration wavers!_  
  
He positioned himself back at the beginning. _Step, thrust, backstep, swing._  
  
He felt like throwing his katana at the wall, or like slicing the punching bag in half. Instead, seething, he went back to the first part of the sequence and started again.  
  
 _Did his teammates really think that of him?_  
  
Yohji had said that to Omi, had obviously expressed that he thought Aya would kill the others under orders. Omi, too, had thought that of him.  
  
 _He hadn't listened to Aya's answer, just assumed..._  
  
Aya stopped his movement and stood in the middle of the dark training room, shaking.  
  
He brought one arm up across his chest, gloved fingers tightening on his own bicep.   
  
"I wouldn't."  
  
The empty room did not offer an opinion.  
  
*****  
  
Aya sat hunched over his bowl of noodles, red eartails falling in front of his face.   
  
It was a strange thing these days, Yohji reflected, that the other assassin had taken to eating his meals with him in the mornings, almost as if he were a normal human.  
  
He took a drag on the cigarette Aya had miraculously let him keep.  
  
Admittedly, he wasn't the best company. But he was grateful for even a sliver of evidence that the younger man did not _really_ hate them all. Even if that's exactly what it seemed like Aya would like them all to think.  
  
That observation was completely beyond the ex-detective's comprehension.  
  
Aya was steadfastly ignoring him, as usual. It made him want to shatter the silence and harass the swordsman into breaking his diamond-cut self-control. What stopped him was the fact that - and he hated to admit it - these mornings with Aya had become comfortable.  
  
He would almost go so far to say that the swordsman's presence was _comforting._  
  
Almost.  
  
What wasn't usual, Yohji finally decided, was the younger man's posture. It lacked the deliberacy so characteristic of the other assassin.   
  
Aya looked up then, as if sensing eyes on him, but Yohji had looked away. A moment later Aya shifted in his seat, back straightening into his accustomed rigidity.   
  
A normal person would talk about something that was bothering them, Yohji mused.   
  
Aya was fraying, he decided. No matter that he doubted anyone noticed, or that the other man was unaware it was noticeable.  
  
But Aya was a bastard. If there was a reason for it, the rest of them would never know. And in a week, Mr. Perfecto would make some repairs, and start aiming whatever he was thinking back at them, rather than at himself.   
  
Yohji drank some of his coffee, then went back to reading the paper.   
  
*****  
  
The moon was a crescent in the Tokyo sky, but the lights of the city were brighter than any natural, ancient light. Aya's breath puffed white into the air, then disappeared. He hunched his shoulders, digging his hands further into the pockets of his beige trench coat.   
  
The lanky form of his coworker rounded the corner, three blocks ahead of him.   
  
_You're an idiot._ Aya was disgusted with himself.   
  
He couldn't explain his actions. But none of them knew where the other man went, only that he came home smelling of things that reminded Aya of some of the people he'd killed. Perfume in brothels and booze on the breath of the yakuza, cigarette smoke at the end of dark alleys. He wondered if it comforted Yohji, to understand the other side.   
  
He trailed Yohji to the door of a bar with a flickering pink neon sign. The bouncers at the door nodded to him as if he were an old friend. Yohji, to Aya's surprise, trailed a hand across the chest of one of them with a wink. Alarmed, he looked from one to the other.  
  
 _Damn him. We're Weiss. We can't afford to make enemies!_  
  
But the man hadn't seemed to mind. Yohji went inside.   
  
Aya looked back to the sign. _Malchiki!_ It meant nothing to him. Aya frowned.  
  
 _A waste of time._ What had he been hoping to find? The other assassin was only where he said he was at night.   
  
_Not everyone had a hospital to go to._  
  
"Hey," Aya had turned to go, but he glanced over his shoulder. Only one of the bouncers remained at the door, and the man had a smile on his face. He was short but well-built, with a piecey, bleached-blond haircut. "You curious?"   
  
Aya frowned. He looked to the door, but it was closed, and pounding music would have blocked their voices even if it had been open. "About what?" He asked impassively.  
  
The man gestured to the club. He looked friendly, with an open, pleasant face. "Only one reason to come to this alley, man."  
  
"There's never one reason for anything," Aya replied tersely. He walked away, just as two men, hand in hand, rounded the corner.   
  
Aya stopped on the sidewalk, on the other side of the building. His eyes widened.  
  
A couple cars passed him, but otherwise the street was deserted. The bass of the music could be felt through the concrete.  
  
He turned around, and walked straight up to the bouncer. "What type of club is this?" His voice was low.   
  
The bouncer looked both surprised and intimidated. "We don't want no trouble. It's a legal, private establishment. You a cop?"  
  
Wordlessly, Aya pushed open the door a crack. He gave the man a careful look. The bouncer nodded nervously at him to go in.   
  
He didn't have to. One glance was enough.  
  
He hadn't known.   
  
The mesh of bodies, stench of smoke, swirling lights. For all his talk, it wasn't even a place he would have pegged Yohji for liking.   
  
The man nodded at him to go in again, the friendly smile back in place. Aya shook his head. "Not tonight." He took long strides away from the club.   
  
_He shouldn't have come. Yohji had kept this part of his life secret. It was none of his business, not any more than a girl in a hospital bed was theirs._  
  
It didn't matter. At least, Aya thought with a ghost of the humor his teammates didn't know he had, Yohji had been telling them the truth when he claimed he didn't go with many women.  
  
*****  
  
"The sun was out today," Aya said, his voice steady. His fingers smoothed over the warm skin of his sister's hand, his eyes on her sleeping face. "It was a beautiful day. We could have taken a walk, or gone to the beach or the park. I had to work in the flower shop. But when you wake up, I'll take the day off for you."   
  
It was a mesh of past and future, possibilities and facts. It was how he had become accustomed to talking to Aya, as if she were awake, and as if she would be soon.   
  
The beep of the machine was steady. It was artificially bright in the room, perhaps to encourage the sleeping girl to wake. He reached forward with his other hand, and brushed a lock of brown hair, spread out on the pillow by her ear. The nurses cared for her well. She was always dressed, always clean, hair always done, and sometimes he found her nails painted.   
  
She would like knowing that, Aya imagined. That she was cared for.  
  
 _Even if her brother wasn't.  
  
"Aya-kun...the mission, a few days ago..." _  
  
Aya's eyes widened, breathing suddenly unsteady.  
  
 _"I wouldn't."_  
  
He had lied.  
  
He was nothing.   
  
Next to his sister, what did his life mean? More blood on his hands would mean little. More guilt on his conscience was irrelevant.  
  
They were all nothing, next to the purity of those they protected. If sacrificing himself meant Aya-chan would have continued safety...did any of them matter?   
  
_Do you know who your brother is?_ Of course not. _Be glad you won't._  
  
Images that he woke to on some nights since that mission, blood marring crisp new snow and sprawled, familiar bodies...he had wished that those images would leave him.  
  
 _Now he knew they wouldn't._  
  
"Ran?" The voice came from the doorway.  
  
Aya looked up at the doctor, then back to his sister. He placed her hand gently on the sheets and stood, leaning forward to press his lips to her forehead. "Sleep well," he said softly.  
  
She didn't answer, but in his head, her voice said, "Save me."  
  
"I'll be back tomorrow," Ran promised. He nodded to the doctor on his way out.  
  
*****  
  
"So, Aya," Yohji said, leaning on the broom he held.  
  
All four Weiss were in the flowershop, preparing to open. Aya had gotten back late, when Ken and Omi were already in bed, and Yohji was still not home. He was tired from staying out most of the night, and had slept past when he usually met Yohji for breakfast.  
  
Aya looked up from the till, surprised. The other assassin wore a devious smirk. "Where'd you go last night, eh? Hot date? The boys said you weren't around."  
  
Aya narrowed his eyes. Yohji's green ones were amused in a way that said he knew something.   
  
He didn't have an answer for Yohji, so he didn't give one.   
  
"Hm," Yohji said anyway, like he'd gotten a response. He stretched, the muscles on his stomach hidden by his apron, though his shirt pulled up beneath it. He gave the floor a few halfhearted sweeps, and ended up next to Aya. A hand fell on the swordsman's shoulder, making the shorter assassin tense.   
  
When Yohji spoke, his mouth was close enough to his ear that his breath tickled Aya's skin. "I didn't know you liked gay clubs, Ayan."  
  
Aya's face reddened, and he slammed the cash register shut. "I don't," he said shortly, shoving Yohji off and turning to face him.   
  
"The bouncer asked who my shy friend was," Yohji said. The smile was still in place, but now that he was facing him, Aya saw that his green eyes were serious.   
  
"I didn't know _you_ liked gay clubs." Aya snapped, louder than he'd meant to. Ken, in the corner, knocked over a vase, and Omi tripped as he came through the storeroom doorway. Aya ignored them both. "And if a 'friend' tailed you, you could be endangering Weiss."  
  
"Weiss is in no danger with you watching my back so closely," Yohji snapped back. His lips had lost the quirk.  
  
"Leave me alone," Aya said shortly, his expression dangerous.  
  
"Oh, I would," Yohji said, eyes narrowed. "But it's a little hard with you spying on me."  
  
"I wasn't - I'm sorry."  
  
"What?" The taller assassin's face was incredulous.  
  
"If that was meant to be a secret..."   
  
"That's not a secret!" Yohji exclaimed. He dropped the broom. It fell to the floor with a clatter. He pointed a finger into Aya's chest. "It's not like any of you can judge, yanno."   
  
All three teammates turned a vivid shade of pink.   
  
"...I just think it's a little unfair that you tail me, when you know damned well you'd kill any one of us for even asking..."  
  
It took all Aya had not to punch Yohji out.   
  
If only he hadn't been right. Aya glanced at the younger Weiss. They were standing stock-still, faces shocked.   
  
The last mission had thrown them off. Aya couldn't help but be aware that the lingering anxiety in the koneko was mostly due to him.   
  
_Three who wouldn't kill their friends, one who would._  
  
He would dispel their doubts.  
  
"I've lied to myself," he said.   
  
Yohji's eyebrows raised.  
  
"You and Omi were both right. I _would_ kill you, if Kritiker ordered it."  
  
"What?" Yohji's eyes were wide. He stuttered. "All this is about that last -?"  
  
"Aya-kun," Omi breathed. Ken's face had fallen into a scowl.  
  
"You told Omi I would kill you, when Manx ordered it. I would."  
  
"Aya..."  
  
"Never forget that. We are all sinners, none of us deserve to live as much as she does. I would do it, and live with the guilt of it, if..." Aya's eyes widened a moment later, and he turned his head.   
  
Yohji's fingers dug into his arm, spinning him around. Aya's fists clenched. "' ...'she', Aya? Who is 'she'?!"  
  
*****


	2. Chapter 2

  
*****  
  
 _"Who is 'she', Aya?"_  
  
Would it have helped if he had never asked?  
  
Yohji cursed, and it sent a stream of bubbles up toward the surface of the roiling ocean.   
  
Probably not, he reflected. The day he'd somehow managed to snag the swordsman with his wire, there had been something that told him it was an inevitability.   
  
Like the inevitability of a black hole sucking you in.  
  
Yohji pulled himself down, hands gripping the side of a sunken wall, and picked up a jagged piece of concrete. Pressed his snagged wrist onto the broken piece of building and began sawing. His body was sliding into panic-mode, and more air bubbles escaped as he fought not to breathe.  
  
The wire snapped, finally. Yohji used resources he wasn't aware he had to push _up_ with his legs. What seemed like an hour later, he broke the surface, and was immediately slapped in the face with a wave. Gagging, he spat the water out, and grabbed hold of a nearby piece of metal tubing, possibly what had been a vent.   
  
No one was in sight. He didn't allow himself to pause on that. Instead, he treaded water until he was facing the shore.   
  
Two small figures, clothing blowing in the wind, were standing on the cliff jutting above the shoreline.   
  
A small smile turned his shivering lips. He took careful strokes toward land, picking his way in the water between floating pieces of the tower, and the occasional body. He didn't check if they were dead or otherwise.   
  
"Yoh-"   
  
"Omi! Where are you?!" Yohji pushed a chunk of insulation to the side. The kid was weakly grasping something rubber and unidentifiable, and had a large gash on his forehead, but smiled nonetheless.   
  
"I think the others made it to the shore..." Omi coughed.  
  
Yohji nodded. "We will too. Come on." He grabbed Omi by the collar of his jacket. The younger Weiss seemed to steel himself, then helped Yohji tug him by kicking.   
  
Yohji rolled onto the sharp stones and onto his back after he'd finally decided that he'd just give up and die, because it was really about time anyway. Guess he'd made it. Damn. He coughed a mixture of phlegm and vile-tasting water. "Omi?"  
  
"Made it. Thank you, Yohji-kun." He sounded weak.  
  
The oldest assassin's eyes were fluttering shut. Shivering uncontrollably, he wished distantly that someone would throw a blanket on him. And possibly remove that annoying bit of seaweed clinging to his leg.  
  
"Oof!" A fist grabbed what remained of his shirt at his throat. His hand went for his watch before his eyes made it open. "Oi! Ken!"  
  
The other boy tugged him to his feet, chin set. "No time for resting, you lazy ass." Yohji looked to the side. Omi was gone. "Already got 'im." Ken explained. A weary grin was tugging his mouth. "While you were napping."  
  
Yohji was too tired to argue. He let Ken help him up the hill. "Schwartz?" He guessed.  
  
"Dunno where they are. They could still be around."  
  
He and Ken both stopped when they made it to the top of the incline. Manx was leaning on the hood of her car, Sakura beside her. Omi could be seen in the back seat, a compression on his head.  
  
"R-ran...Ran-niisan...it's okay, it's okay...are you okay?"   
  
Yohji forgot to breathe.   
  
"R-ran, Ran, it's okay...I've missed you so much...it's okay..."  
  
The girl they'd all risked their lives to save was kneeling on the ground, in front of their last teammate. Bloodstained and soaked through, his arms dripped red streaks down the white of his sister's gown. He was shaking uncontrollably. He was pale beyond belief, deathly beneath the drenched shocks of his crimson hair.   
  
"Abyssinian," Manx's voice cut through.   
  
Yohji's head jerked toward her. If she were using his mission name, in front of Aya-chan...he turned back to the scene.  
  
 _He had never wanted his sister to know._  
  
But if Manx were using his code name, then she already did.   
  
Aya had gone still. His sister was tugging at his hand. "We need to get you warm," she said, firmly. Then, more quietly, "It's over, brother. Let's go. I'm safe."   
  
Yohji finally shrugged Ken off, and stepped forward. He grabbed Aya by his bicep, and hefted the other man up. Aya-chan looked at him in surprise, then with gratefulness. Aya, for his part, let him. What Yohji saw on his face made his lips thin.   
  
He wasn't looking at his sister, or at any of them. He looked, if Yohji was forced to describe it, _lost._ As if he didn't believe any of what he was seeing.  
  
"She's really here," Yohji whispered, too quiet for any of the rest to hear. It was an experiment. He was at a complete loss of what to say to bring his teammate around. As unhinged as Aya usually was, at least he was always in control of himself. This - if it had been Yohji, he would have been crying, laughing, hugging the person he'd...  
  
...or would he want to send her as far away from him as possible, so as not to stain her with who he was?  
  
If he were Aya, he assumed it would be the latter.   
  
Aya looked sideways at his words, taking in Yohji as if he were surprised to see him, then seemed to shake out of it. He jerked his arm away from him, and his face relaxed into a sight that Yohji had seen less than he could count on one hand. The other man smiled.  
  
It was beautiful.  
  
Aya-chan, whose face had been riddled with worry, broke out into a mirroring expression. Two of the prettiest god-damned humans Yohji had ever met.   
  
"I'm sorry, Aya -" Aya coughed, then recovered his smile. "I'm just -"  
  
Aya-chan stepped forward, and took his arm hesitantly. The two siblings went to the car.  
  
A jeep pulled up just as Yohji was trying to figure out how not to be the one they threw in the trunk. Two men in black suits got out. Manx nodded at them, then ordered, "Yohji, you come with us. Aya, Abyssinian, with them."  
  
Aya's head snapped up, expression verging on desperate. A chill that had nothing to do with ocean water settled over Yohji.   
  
"No." The swordsman's voice was steady.  
  
"You can come with us, if you'd prefer not to go with your sister to her checkup."  
  
"I won't have her interrogated!"  
  
"That's not what this is about." Manx's voice was surprisingly soothing. "They'll take you to Kritiker, and you'll be briefed on the situation."  
  
Aya-chan put her hand on her brother's arm as a war was held on his face.   
  
"You'll both be released," Manx added.  
  
"Tonight?" Aya's hand folded over his sister's.   
  
Manx hesitated, then nodded. It was obviously a compromise. A moment later they got in the jeep, and it pulled away. Yohji's hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he follwed Ken to the car.   
  
He couldn't help feeling that Aya's old leather leash had just been traded for a choke collar.  
  
*****  
  
The wire tightened, and Yohji gagged.   
  
_This could be all in your head._  
  
The voice was amused. He clawed at his throat, giving the orange-haired sadist what he hoped was more threat than plea.   
  
"My head would never come up with that outfit," He asserted.   
  
The Mastermind grinned. Water was rising around him, licking at his heels until both he and the Weiss assassin were suddenly immersed. The image of his enemy wavered before him. Sinking debris came between them.   
  
Yohji was clawing for the surface. The wire around his neck had been replaced by seaweed. When he reached up to grab at it, he felt the smooth fingers of a woman's hand pressing at his throat.   
  
Gagging, he grabbed at her, twisting his arm behind his back to do so. He dragged the body around in front of him. Asuka was limp in the water, and there were no bubbles coming from her mouth or throat.   
  
"No!" Yohji gurgled.   
  
_This wasn't how you died!_  
  
He pressed his palm into her cheek. Her eyes suddenly flew open.   
  
They were violet.  
  
She smiled. "Yohji. How many times do I have to tell you..."  
  
"Off the coast. Water is still being dragged for bodies, this is a terrible tragedy..."  
  
Yohji blinked open his eyes. The paneled ceiling of the mission room was above him.   
  
"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ "  
  
He ground a hand into his eyes, one at a time. His fingers came away wet.   
  
The television was still rolling coverage of the fall of the tower. Kritiker had apparently gotten the news station straight on the facts, but he couldn't convince himself to care enough to listen. He felt for the remote beneath his back, then turned it off and threw the remote at the screen. It fell short, skidding across the floor. The battery compartment lost it's cover, sending the two double-As rolling under the coffee table.  
  
" _Fuck._ "  
  
He rolled off the couch and stumbled to his feet, taking the blanket with him. He'd soaked in hot water for over an hour, drank three cups of hot tea and made himself some soup, and still, he felt like he was at the bottom of that goddamned ocean.   
  
Yohji ran a hand through his clean hair, and was disgusted to come away with _still more_ grains of sand.   
  
He shuffled up the stairs and to the refrigerator, coming away with a six-pack. When nothing else worked...  
  
 _Click._  
  
Yohji spun.  
  
Aya looked nearly as surprised to see him as he did. The man was still in his mission gear.   
  
They stood there for a moment, facing off. The open refrigerator leaked cold air into the room. Aya's hair had dried into a mat, his eartails plastered to his cheeks.  
  
Yohji watched as slowly, all the naked pain on his teammate's face was eradicated. What was left was a familiar expression. Not emotionless, Yohji had finally discovered, but controlled.  
  
"Tell Omi that we won't open shop tomorrow," the swordsman ordered. "Aya-chan is coming over."  
  
Yohji almost laughed. He hadn't been planning to sell flowers for at least a week.   
  
His expression turned dark instead. "You let them keep -"  
  
Aya's hand clenched, but the punch never came. Instead, one arm went around his stomach, subconsciously, it seemed. Yohji shut the refrigerator and took a step toward the other assassin. Aya just barely flinched. He brushed past him as if it hadn't happened.  
  
"Aya -"  
  
The other man paused at the bottom of the stairs, one hand on the railing. He didn't turn.   
  
Aya's voice was quiet. "I'm Ran."   
  
He disappeared upstairs.  
  
No one had followed him inside.   
  
_"Shit!"_  
  
*****


	3. Chapter 3

  
_"Shit!"_  
  
Yohji looked at the empty stairwell, after his teammate. His eyes were narrowed.  
  
 _Pissy, emotionless dick._   
  
But Aya hadn't been emotionless, had he?   
  
He wanted to follow his teammate up, and punch him in his perfect face. Crack the mask for good and make the other man finally show them all what he was carrying beneath it.  
  
 _You got what you wanted back!_ Luckiest one of them. So why'd he let them keep his sister? Why hadn't he stayed there with her? They'd all risked their necks for her - for _him_ \- and here he was talking about opening up shop like usual. They'd almost fucking _died._  
  
And _"Ran."_ Who was Ran? Different from Aya? The same? He felt sorry for Aya-chan if that was what she'd had as a sibling.  
  
It was a bitter thought. He knew the answer was "different."   
  
Yohji ran a hand through his sandy hair, frustrated.   
  
He looked down at the beer in his hands, then put the pack on the counter with a sigh.  
  
 _Why couldn't Omi or Ken be up to take care of this?_  
  
Because it was four in the morning, and they were both asleep. Ken both couldn't and wouldn't have been able to handle Aya like this, anyway.  
  
Yohji decided he'd allow himself one beer, then go to find Aya.  
  
*****  
  
"Leave me alone." Aya didn't look up from tying a bandage around his arm. He was sitting in a chair against the wall by his dresser, his mission gear a stiff pile on the floor. He'd taken a quick, scalding shower and checked himself for injuries the Kritiker doctors might have missed. He'd opted against letting them give him a full checkup. All things considered, the mission could have gone worse.  
  
And Aya...his sister was awake.  
  
Alive.   
  
Safe.  
  
For tonight. It was a physical pain to be without her, when he'd fought so hard to stay by her side. But Manx had been right. He needed to look after himself, and she didn't need to see him dress his wounds.  
  
 _Though she'd begged to come home with him._  
  
"This is my room, Kudoh." Aya closed his eyes. He'd been doing all right, but he wasn't sure he could deal with Yohji. The man somehow knew exactly how to get where he didn't want him going.  
  
"That's how I knew where to find you," Yohji commented. "Want help?"  
  
"No."  
  
Yohji came in and sat on his bed, across from him. Aya tied off the bandage and glared at him. "So, where is she?"  
  
Aya considered throwing him out. Instead he said shortly, "With Manx." Being brief never worked with Yohji. "It was best for her..."  
  
Yohji actually nodded at him. Aya couldn't get a handle on the emotion in those green eyes. "...not to see this," he finished for him.  
  
 _Why was he here?_  
  
"So, I think we can label that our most disastrous mission yet..." Yohji said suddenly. He was leaning back on his elbows.  
  
Aya raised his eyebrows in surprise. The reminder of what exactly Aya's return had cost his teammates was hidden in Yohji's comment.   
  
_They'd been there through this with him.  
  
Their choice._  
  
"...Ayan?"  
  
 _Their choice, but he'd needed them._  
  
Yohji's hand was suddenly on his shoulder. He hadn't noticed him move. Yohji was crouching in front of him, peering at him with a concerned expression that made Aya uncomfortable.   
  
"She's safe, Aya."   
  
_Why couldn't he feel like that was true?  
  
...because he was still here, still Weiss, and she was somewhere else.  
  
...and she _ knew.  
  
"Aya!" He jerked back into focus. Yohji was shaking his shoulder.   
  
Yohji's golden face was slipping out of focus. Aya looked down at his hands, and finally noticed that he was shaking. Sobbing. His face was dry, he wasn't making any noise.   
  
He couldn't stop it.  
  
Yohji tried to pull him forward. The swordsman pushed him violently backwards into the bed. Yohji scrambled to his feet, hands fisted, but he relaxed them immediately.  
  
 _He didn't want Yohji to see this._  
  
He didn't want to admit that it was happening.   
  
"Aya-"  
  
"Get out," Aya gasped.  
  
Aya crumpled over his knees, wrapping his arms around his head.  
  
A moment later the door clicked shut.  
  
Aya folded over onto the floor.  
  
 _It should have been over._  
  
But his parents were still dead, his little sister was still missing part of her life, and he was still...   
  
Part of him wished Yohji would come back.  
  
*****  
  
"Yohji-kun!" Omi hissed, dismayed.  
  
"Are you seriously drunk, you ass?" Ken snickered.   
  
Yohji gave them what was clearly supposed to be a charming smile. "I'll have you know I'm as sober as I can be." The man swaggered into the kitchen as if nothing unusual had happened the night before.  
  
He swung a chair around and slid into it, stretching back.   
  
"Get out of here," Aya hissed. His hand tightened on the back of another chair, turning his knuckles white. The fact that none of them looked like they should even be properly alive was bad enough, Kudoh greeting his sister wasted was more than he could tolerate.   
  
"Ran!" Yohji turned the smile up a notch. "I'm serious. Look. Best behavior. You can't even see a peek of these well-toned abs." He patted his stomach. He was in a button-down dress shirt, sure enough.  
  
 _Ran._ Aya felt nauseous. He'd said it last night - _his name_ \- for the first time since joining Weiss. It felt wrong to hear it from Yohji, sliding off his tongue like it'd been there all along. He hadn't expected him to remember, let alone use it.   
  
He felt like screaming, _"I'm Aya!"_   
  
There was silence in the room. Yohji kept his blase expression intact, eyes trained on Aya's far too intently to be innocent. He felt like the ex-detective was measuring him. He wished Yohji would speak again, and give him a reason to punch him to the floor.  
  
"...Ran?" Omi blinked at him. He looked stunned.   
  
Ken followed suit, mouth open slightly.  
  
Aya nodded shortly at them. It felt like he was lying. He _was_ Ran though, and he'd promised himself he wouldn't forget that when he accepted Yohji's nickname.   
  
It was an eternity ago. It no longer fit.   
  
Their scrutiny made him uneasy. He hurt too much from the embarrassment of what Yohji had seen, and he felt like their eyes could see his memory. He'd been trying his best since recovering from the fit to forget it had happened. At the very least, it seemed like Yohji had decided to do the same.  
  
It didn't make him any less raw.  
  
There was a knock on the door.  
  
All three sets of assassin's eyes were trained on him. Ken and Omi with their eyes wide, Yohji's barely detectable above the rim of his sunglasses.  
  
He opened the door for Manx. His sister was behind her. She lit up when she saw him. Manx stepped to the side to stand by Omi.  
  
She looked healthy. She looked _vibrant._  
  
He suddenly felt the smile that had been on his face all along. He opened his arms.  
  
Aya-chan ran into them, and buried her face into his orange turtleneck.  
  
He buried his face in her hair, and breathed.   
  
A small giggle came from under his chin. "Eh?"  
  
His sister giggled more. "I can't believe you still have this." He pulled back just enough to look at her face. She reached down and touched the hem of his sleeve, where it was fraying.   
  
His smile widened marginally. "I remembered how much you liked it."  
  
She laughed then, and it hit him like a breeze on a hot day. Her eyes were big on his, then suddenly, they creased into happy half-moons. She turned to the others in the room, who Aya had forgotten were still there.   
  
"I tried to burn it," she said conspiratorially.  
  
Aya's eyes were still on her face. "I kept it so you could," he said softly.  
  
Aya-chan turned back to him, and her eyes were too serious, and too seeing for a moment. Still a Fujimiya. "I just might."  
  
"So, Aya, we just going to stand here, or what?" Ken's voice was tenser than he'd probably meant it to be.   
  
Both Aya and Aya-chan turned to him. Aya-chan shifted on her feet with a glance toward her brother. Her face looked surprised, and uncomfortable. "Uhm...well, I..."  
  
Aya dropped a hand on his sister's shoulder. He glared daggers and katanas at his teammate.   
  
Aya-chan's head jerked toward him. Her eyes were shining. "He meant...why would he..."  
  
His voice was low. "Remember what I told you, last night?"  
  
"...oh." His sister's voice was small. "I didn't...it's different, hearing it..."  
  
"I'm sorry, Aya." It felt strange, apologizing for the very thing that had kept him strong.   
  
"A-Aya..." Omi gasped.   
  
"Ran," he corrected, eyes still on his sister's face.  
  
He would be who she asked him to be.  
  
"N-no..." Aya-chan's lower lip was trembling, then suddenly, it stopped. She smiled at him. There wasn't even a hint of a lie in it.  
  
"I understand why you did it. You keep me alive and with you by doing it. If 'Aya' is who you are - I know that it isn't me. And if you're not Ran any longer..."  
  
"...I'm still your brother." His voice was almost desperate. _Why were the others_ here?! _Why were they watching...why wouldn't they leave..._  
  
She nodded, firmly. "Yes. You are." She stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Aya."  
  
*****  
  
Yohji intended to stay drunk the rest of his life.  
  
He fell back on his bed, and stared at his ceiling. The paint was cracking.  
  
He'd come to a realization in Aya's room, and it wasn't one he was particularly comfortable with.  
  
Like a planet circling a black hole, he'd finally been sucked in.   
  
Devoured.   
  
Annihilated.  
  
If he'd listened to himself, he'd probably have seen it coming.   
  
Instead -  
  
 _Hate is such a comfortable alternative._  
  
He'd taken his beer and waited outside of Aya's room until the coughing stopped, and he'd heard the creak of bedsprings. If Omi or Ken had needed the bathroom, he'd have had some explaining to do.   
  
The goddamned man didn't even remember how to cry.  
  
 _He didn't have a snowball's chance in hell._  
  
He was never going to fucking learn.  
  
 _Yes, Asuka. I remember what you were always trying to tell me._  
  
One hand trailed up to his tattoo.  
  
Aya had his sister back. He didn't need the mess that was Yohji. He'd told him that loud and clear since they'd met.  
  
The reunion had been like watching a train wreck in reverse. He'd been witness to the end result of it simply by living next to Aya in the Koneko. He was a head case, and that's why Yohji had been careful to keep his distance. He'd taken his sister's name while she was asleep and killed with it. It was creepy on a level the ex-detective still wasn't comfortable with.   
  
Seeing them together today...  
  
 _Aya had smiled._   
  
For the time being, his sister was only going to come on visits, for her safety and, Yohji assumed, mental health. Which was surprisingly decent considering what the girl had been through.  
  
 _And it seemed like she accepted who her brother was in a way he doubted any of them had._ The cloaked disbelief on Aya's face was painful to observe. _She knew about all of them._   
  
If she'd always been like that, Yohji could understand why Aya would commit himself to hell for her.  
  
And Aya, he mused, had that same pull. Only it was darker, more dangerous. Instead of a guiding light, it was the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.  
  
He hadn't realized it, and Aya sure as hell didn't, but he'd been following the man from the start. Skirting on the outside of the abyss, keeping it contained behind the cage of his wire and his focus on the past. That lens had been more than enough to keep him protected from his present life.  
  
Yohji laughed, loudly. He slapped a hand over his face, then pushed to his feet.   
  
He went to his closet and began pulling out clothes.  
  
It was a good night to mingle with some other lonely souls.  
  
*****


	4. Chapter 4

  
*****  
  
Yohji had intended to go out.  
  
He'd intended to get plastered. Then he'd intended to pick up a girl, because that didn't remind him of Aya, and go back to her place and forget about his earlier revelation entirely.   
  
Instead, he was tailing someone who would more than likely kill him when he found out.  
  
The second he stopped walking so goddamned quickly, of course.  
  
It was cold out. The wind had picked up, and a light rain was drifting down on the city. In front of him, Aya had hunched over, his chin tucked down, hands stuffed in his beige trenchcoat.   
  
Yohji hadn't brought anything but his skin and what he would classify as clothing. He hadn't expected to see that familiar shock of red outside the window, or see Aya heading down the street. Not this late at night. Yohji hadn't paused for his jacket.  
  
He still wasn't sure what had possessed him to tail the other assassin. It might have been the way Aya had been avoiding them since his sister had left. It could have been his determined gate, something that told him that he wasn't just out for a stroll.   
  
_Aya, Aya, stalking your sister?_   
  
But he was headed out of the city.   
  
To his surprise, they ended up on a bridge over a river. Yohji remained far enough away that he could skim the shadows. The city was a blur of colored lights in the distance.  
  
Aya was leaning on the railing, bent over the top rung. Circles of lamplight stretched down the sidewalk. His teammate had found the darkness between them. Yohji watched as he placed one foot on the bottom rail.  
  
His breath caught. _Aya, you're not -!_ "Aya!"  
  
The figure stumbled backwards, almost into the street and a passing car. Yohji's stomach lurched, but suddenly, Aya was doing the exact opposite of what he was expecting.   
  
Namely coming right at him.  
  
 _Shit!_ The punch connected with his stomach before Yohji could block it. It was followed by another to his head. "Aya, you prick! _Stop!_ " Yohji fell into a fighting stance.   
  
" _Stop_ \- ai, _stop_ \- fuck you!" He was taken aback by the force of Aya's reaction. Yohji finally managed to grab hold of one fist. He swung the other man into the railing and pressed him there, using proximity to chamber him. Aya was bent backwards over the water, startling color against the misty grey river. His violet eyes were dangerous.  
  
 _Not a good idea._ His body was telling him that he could lie to himself all he wanted, but it was having none of it. The burgeoning reaction from adrenaline and, dammit, simple _proximity_ was going to get him killed the moment he released the other assassin. There was no way even a stubborn, angry Aya could miss _that_.  
  
Aya was struggling against him, eyes wild. "Why are you here?"   
  
Yohji nearly winced. He hadn't expected it to go like this.   
  
He shoved his weight against the other man's chest, careful to keep them balanced enough not to fall. He ignored his body because thankfully, Aya was ignoring it as well. "Maybe I owe you. Remember the club, Ayan?" Yohji didn't know why his mind jumped back all those months ago, to when Aya had found out all about Yohji Kudoh.   
  
Aya remembered. His eyes had flicked to the side before going steely again. "You're a selfish bastard," he hissed.  
  
That stung, but Yohji already knew what the other man thought of him. "So what are you doing here, Ayan?"  
  
Yohji felt Aya's muscles tense before the swordsman shoved Yohji off. He sidestepped quickly, putting a couple feet between them. Yohji still tripped, though he'd known it was coming. His arms flailed for a moment. Miraculously, he managed to keep upright.  
  
So much for keeping the upper hand. His anger flared. "Well?"  
  
Aya's fists clenched, eyes narrowing. Yohji could see the glint of them even through the rain. "I'm not here to kill myself," Aya hissed, hitting on what Yohji had been thinking exactly. "I used to..." The expression changed for a moment, then refocused. "Why do you care?"  
  
Yohji blinked.   
  
He really didn't feel like this was the moment for sharing.   
  
"Aya..."  
  
"You hate me, Yohji. Why are you following me?"   
  
Yohji's mouth dropped open. The other man said it so matter-of-factly.   
  
His brain was having a hard time processing. He was shivering slightly, and the rain was sliding down his bare skin and through his clothes.   
  
Aya's face was unreadable. His red hair was dripping down into his eyes. Yohji would have thought the rivulets were tears if he hadn't known better.  
  
"You've never been able to stand being around me. I don't feel like being mocked. Go find someone else to distract you from your demons."  
  
"Hate you?" Yohji almost laughed at the incredulity. _That_ was projection if he'd ever heard it.  
  
"Yes." Aya growled. His hands were fists, body tense.  
  
"So what about the breakfasts, Aya?" Yohji was grim.   
  
"Breakfasts?"   
  
Yohji finally identified himself as pissed. "I've been dragging my ass out of bed at eight in the morning. Every fucking morning, Aya. Would I do that for someone I hated?"   
  
Aya looked stunned. He opened his mouth. Yohji ignored him.   
  
His voice rose. "I've gone on missions for you, Aya. I helped you _save_ her!"  
  
Yohji wrapped his arms around himself. He was spending far too much time being cold and wet lately because of Aya's crap.   
  
He squinted through the water. Aya had one arm braced on the railing of the bridge, his face turned away.  
  
A car drove by, splashing a muddy puddle onto the sidewalk. Yohji sidestepped it, using the excuse to move closer.   
  
"You don't hate me."   
  
It was quiet. Aya's face was obscured by shadows and the falling rain.  
  
"Now you're getting it." Yohji said flippantly. Despite the tone, he gritted his teeth. He couldn't stop himself from adding, "Not that I thought you'd care, Ayan."  
  
There was a quiet noise from the other man. It took Yohji a second to identify it as a laugh.  
  
It wasn't anything resembling amused. Not that he had much experience to base it on.  
  
It felt like a fist to his gut. He would have _preferred_ a fist to his gut.  
  
He really did have a pretty shitty sense of self-preservation. His emotions could go fuck themselves. He didn't need to be laughed at on top of confirming what he already knew - on the list of people Aya might potentially feel even a little sense of warmth towards - well, his name didn't even make the fucking cut.  
  
There was no way in hell he was going home alone after putting himself through this.   
  
Yohji turned toward the city. He might have been soaked through, but in some venues, the wet look was in.  
  
Aya didn't stop him. Yohji didn't look back.  
  
*****


	5. Chapter 5

*****  
  
"She's going to live with a Kritiker family," Aya announced, walking into the Koneko.  
  
There weren't any customers, it was too early, though all three Weiss were in the shop setting up. He'd startled Ken so that he knocked into the counter, he hadn't been facing the door. Omi looked up from where he was preparing the till, eyes large.  
  
He didn't look at Yohji. It had been two days since the night on the bridge, and Aya had done his best to remove himself from any contact with the man. The emotions the encounter had stirred up were too raw, and too long buried.  
  
 _The reminder of the gay club, what he felt Yohji pressing against him on the bridge -_  
  
In some other lifetime, Aya had realized that night, there had been a possibility.   
  
It wasn't something he let himself dwell on. The events since joining Weiss had pushed from him all notions of what he might have deserved as a human, once.   
  
_But he remembered waking up, and connecting with something buried deep within those smiling eyes.  
  
...it had been why he'd pushed him away._  
  
It didn't matter then, and it still didn't matter. He had other concerns. Even if he wasn't allowed to have his sister by his side, he would still be her guardian. He would make sure she had a happy life, even if it was without him.  
  
"Aya..."  
  
He steeled his jaw and ignored Kudoh. Omi glanced sideways, then back at Aya. It was obvious he was aware something was up, but was too politic to discuss it. "Aya-kun...are you sure..."  
  
He nodded shortly.  
  
"But I thought she would come back here to live..."  
  
"She's not." He went to the back and picked up his apron from the hook, coming back to join the shift a moment later.   
  
"So you're just gonna give her up, like that." Ken's voice was incredulous.   
  
"It's not your concern, Ken." He pulled open a drawer and got out the shears.   
  
He busied himself trimming the flowers Omi had set out to keep from revealing the guilt that was weighing down on him since the decision. It was a heavy, familiar tension between his shoulder blades.   
  
_It was because some part of him was relieved._   
  
Relieved because she would be cared for. Because he didn't have to trust himself to be able to.  
  
 _Relieved because she would be protected from his life._  
  
He could barely care for the mess that was his own existence. An aware, animated girl was much different to protect than one chained to a hospital bed, with all her needs cared for by nurses and doctors.   
  
"Aya!" Yohji slammed an open hand into the wall. Aya's head snapped up. He was taken aback by the anger on Yohji's face. His expression was dark. "Don't you ever get tired of being such a fucking emotionless asshole?"   
  
"Emotionless." Aya echoed.  
  
"Yes!" Yohji exclaimed. He was glaring at Aya over the rim of his sunglasses.  
  
Aya slammed the scissors down on the counter. The two younger Weiss jumped.   
  
"Y-Yohji-kun!" Omi sounded dismayed. "He didn't mean that, Ay-"  
  
"Oh, yes, I did." Yohji stated.   
  
Aya stared at him, disbelieving. There was a muffled snicker from Ken.   
  
"You think," Aya said finally, his voice low, "That my sister would be better living with the four of us, watching us come and go, never knowing when we'll be back." His voice rose. "If she lives with us, I will come back from a mission and she will see me covered in the blood of some dark beast. This is our hell. I will not taint her any more with my choices." He was breathing hard. His hand was clenched around the shears, and he dimly felt the tip pushing into his skin. "Kritiker is offering her a chance at a normal life. She'll be protected. And if it means that I am still Weiss - I know what I am!" He ended shouting.  
  
He spun around to the door, intending to leave the shop. Two schoolgirls were in the doorway, their faces wide and shocked.  
  
"O-oh! Welcome! Don't mind him," Omi's voice was shaky behind him. "He's practicing for a play, you know..."  
  
The girls relaxed immediately, and fell into a fawn.  
  
Aya turned on his heel and rushed up the stairs.   
  
****  
  
"Aya!"  
  
Yohji's voice chased his heels. Aya whirled around in the hallway and ran at him, intending to give him the punch he more than deserved.  
  
Yohji was expecting it. He dodged it easily, then grabbed his arm at the wrist when he threw the second. Aya wrenched free and backed up.   
  
"Aya, you're more than just a killer! You're her brother! Don't you think she's going to feel rejected? Or _miss_ you, dammit?" Yohji shouted, stepping back into his personal space. He shoved Aya backwards.  
  
Aya stumbled, more from the words than the shove.   
  
_I don't hate you._ Yohji's words had stayed with him since that night. Obviously a lie. He was tired of Yohji jerking him around. The man had an uncanny knack for sensing when he was wounded, and preying on it.   
  
"Stop," Aya hissed.  
  
"Stop what, Aya? Telling you things you don't want to hear?"  
  
"Yes!" Aya shouted. "Stop -"  
  
"Stop calling you out on being a selfish ass?"  
  
Aya punched him, and it connected. Yohji came back immediately and decked him across his face.   
  
"Damn you!" Aya screamed at him.   
  
He was shaking. He had tried his best to avoid Yohji, ever since he'd wrapped that goddamned wire around his body and drew him into this hell. Aya had recognized from the beginning that they would understand each other in ways that would be dangerous for him. And it had been easy, because the other man clearly despised him. He was the butt of Yohji's attention only when he was bored.   
  
It had made it easy to ignore how he felt. Until he'd told them all about Aya-chan, and Yohji had found the broken spaces in Aya, where he could slip in.   
  
He didn't understand why Yohji bothered to.  
  
Aya hated him. He hated him for how easily he could ignore what he was. He hated him for his recent persistant interest in harrassing him, for making it impossible for Aya to avoid him.  
  
 _He hated how Yohji was speaking now to his deepest desire to have Aya-chan with him constantly, to allow himself that reward for all his suffering..._  
  
Despite what it would mean for her.  
  
He had looked off, lost in his own misery. When his eyes found Yohji's face again, the other assassin's face was clearly shocked.   
  
Suddenly, Yohji moved. Aya slammed against the wall, his wrists gripped in Yohji's hands with surprising strength from years of using his wire weapon.  
  
Aya's head hit the wall before he could react, Yohji pressing his mouth to his viciously.  
  
Aya's eyes widened. He nearly bit him, but after a moment Yohji's lips softened, lightening up on the pressure, as if testing Aya to see if he would stay where he was.   
  
_He had wanted this..._  
  
 _He had never deserved it._  
  
Yohji - his interest wasn't real...  
  
 _Once, he had wanted this..._  
  
Yohji was watching him, and Aya was taken aback to find that his green eyes were wet, glistening under the blond bangs. His muscles were hard against Aya's, and straining because though Aya wanted it, he was still trying to break free.   
  
Suddenly Yohji released him, stepping back. His expression had a hint of realization in it. "Kill me if you need to, Aya. _Ran._ Because I know this is going to kill me anyway."  
  
Aya was breathing heavily. He was pressing himself back into the wall, though everything in him was screaming to follow Yohji up on his offer.   
  
_Ran._  
  
Yohji watched him, his eyes intent.   
  
After a moment, Yohji's eyes closed, expression falling into a smirk with a soft snort. When he opened them, his eyes were pained. It was a familiar expression, but one Aya hadn't defined before. "I guess-"  
  
"Aya!" Omi's voice broke in from downstairs. It sounded strained. "Yohji! Aya-chan is here! She's come for a visit!"  
  
Yohji laughed, darkly. He ran a hand through his hair. "Tell Aya- _chan_ I'm sorry I missed her." He went to his room, his door slamming.  
  
Aya closed his eyes. He brought a hand up to pass over his face.   
  
*****  
  
It was easier than Aya had expected to smile for his sister. She had been laughing with Ken when he came down. The soccer player had been teasing Omi, from the look of it, because the youngest assassin had a mock-annoyed expression on his face, hands on his hips.  
  
Manx had dropped her off and left for once, saying that Aya-chan could call her when she wanted to return.   
  
Aya-chan lit up at the sight of him. He gave her a strong hug, burying his face in her hair. When they broke apart, she was still smiling.   
  
The expression was still in place when she whispered, "Ra-Aya, what's wrong?"  
  
"It's nothing," he said. He pushed everything that had just happened in the upstairs hallway out of his conscious mind. The smile on his face wasn't a lie. It felt like a dream to have her in front of him again. Despite everything, he still felt that she was something that would slip away the second he blinked.  
  
"Mm." She said.   
  
_He'd forgotten how she used to find out what he was hiding, even back then..._  
  
"Niisan! Let's go get ice cream, okay? It's a beautiful day out. And I remember you telling me that you'd take the day off." She grinned at him.  
  
"Remember...you remember what I said..."  
  
She nodded, eyes big. "I remember a lot of what you said to me, when I was asleep. The nurses said it's common. But I'm sure I don't remember it all...just that you were there." She took his hand and pulled him toward the door.   
  
"Have fun!" Omi called after them.  
  
*****  
  
Once they were outside, Aya-chan slipped her hand into his. It was a sunny day, the sky clear but for a handful of wispy white clouds.   
  
"I miss them," she said suddenly. She was looking straight ahead.   
  
_Their parents._ Aya didn't need to ask her to clarify.   
  
"Brother? Ow!"  
  
Aya let go of her hand with a start. He hadn't noticed that he'd stopped walking.   
  
He was still reeling from the encounter with Yohji. Aya-chan's simple admission felt like nearly a physical blow on top of it. One hand shot out so he could steady himself on the cement wall of the building beside them.  
  
 _For her, it was still fresh._  
  
And she had recognized the reality of their lives in a way that Aya steadfastly veered away from.   
  
The concern on her face was enough to convince him to mask what he was feeling. He straightened. "I'm sorry, Aya. I had a...hard time at the shop this morning. I..." He looked down and blinked once, hard.   
  
He had never said the words aloud. He fought with himself.  
  
 _But he was no longer alone.  
  
He had to show her that _she _wasn't alone._  
  
Aya looked back up at her, and took a breath. "I miss them. Too."  
  
It was the first time since joining Weiss that he had classified his grief in terms of something other than revenge and rage.  
  
His sister's eyes were trained on his. She reached out hesitantly and touched his arm. The throng of passerby ignored them.  
  
Finally, he nodded at her. "I'm okay, Aya." He wasn't sure if it was a lie.  
  
After a moment, she nodded back at him. She took his hand again, and the siblings started down the sidewalk.  
  
"Aya," Aya said suddenly.  
  
She looked at him. Her face was troubled.   
  
"Aya...I think you should start calling me Ran again."   
  
His sister tilted her head. Aya desperately wished he knew what she was thinking.   
  
After a long pause, she broke out into a beautiful smile.   
  
_It was the right thing._  
  
"Okay, brother," she said. She nodded, as if affirming it. Then, more quietly, "I'm glad."   
  
Aya skipped ahead suddenly, pulling Ran forward after her.  
  
*****


	6. Chapter 6

*****  
  
After Ran dropped his sister off at her Kritiker home, he took a detour back to the koneko, ending up on the bridge he'd come to a couple nights before.  
  
The sun was waning, red and orange pooling in the scalloped surface of the water. It flowed gently under the walkway beneath Ran's feet.  
  
His family had taken walks here once, in the evening after his father returned from work. They'd stopped as Ran got older, but he remembered running along with Aya-chan when she was a toddler, peering through the railings trying to catches glimpses of fish in the river.  
  
The couple his sister was living with were decent people, Ran assessed. For Kritiker. They'd had dinner waiting for her when they returned, and offered to let Ran stay. He'd declined, though the disappointment on his sister's face pained him. There had obviously been enough food only for three.  
  
He was grateful. It would be too much of a farce.  
  
His parents were dead.  
  
He had promised to eat with them soon.  
  
Aya-chan seemed happy enough there. Manx had shown him her caregivers' Kritiker files, and he was reasonably assured that they would be able to protect her.  
  
_Not as well as he could._  
  
It wasn't true.  
  
_Some part of him wished that they would give him some reason to take her back._  
  
He knew it was the healthiest situation for her to stay away from him, to stay where she was.  
  
_He missed her._  
  
But they would see each other every day.  
  
The sun had disappeared behind the buildings on the horizon, the flaming hues from earlier changed to a soft warm glow.  
  
Ran put his hands in the pockets of his coat and turned from the water.  
  
He supposed he was grateful, when he looked past his own selfishness.  
  
*****  
  
The apartments were silent when Ran returned.  
  
Ken and Omi were at the table, staring at a napkin in the center of it. They looked up when he came in. Ken looked grim.  
  
"Yohji's left Weiss," Omi's voice was barely audible.  
  
Ran stopped in the doorway. He stared at his two teammates, feeling his features harden.  
  
_Yohji's lips against his, harsh and warm, forceful and needy._  
  
It had happened just hours ago. He hadn't had time to respond. He hadn't known _how_ to respond. He'd thought that Yohji was looking to him for something less than what he wanted. He hadn't been expecting the pain that had surfaced in those eyes after Yohji released him.  
  
_What had Yohji expected of him?_  
  
Yohji - no, not just Yohji. All of them assumed that he felt nothing.  
  
What did they see him as? A machine?  
  
Omi thought Ran would kill him.  
  
_For his sister, he would, but only at the cost of himself._  
  
Ken - Ken was his own mess of tangled emotion. He must only assume the same as the others. He'd laughed as if it were an in-joke when Yohji called him 'emotionless'.  
  
And Yohji -  
  
_"This will kill me,"_ Yohji had said.  
  
Did he really think that Ran could afford to lose anyone else in his life?  
  
No. Because Yohji probably did not think of himself as "in Ran's life."  
  
In _Aya's_ life.  
  
Yohji was just as confused as he was, when it came down to it.  
  
Ran - _Aya_ had seen Yohji's pain manifest, had seen through the layers of pretense to the hard core. The man who had trapped him so easily in his wire, who was able to wrap it around the neck of the girl who'd looked like his Asuka. Even if Aya had had no energy left to show it with, he at least was aware of what the ex-detective suffered.  
  
_It was just that they all suffered._  
  
And Aya had had to trust Yohji to be able to sort out his own life, because Aya was barely able to handle his own.  
  
"We think he's been gone about an hour," Omi said. He looked like he'd been crying. "We went out for pizza, and when we got back..." His lower lip quivered.  
  
"You didn't try to find him?" Ran stepped into the room and snatched the napkin from the table.  
  
_Ommitchi, stay out of trouble. Make sure Kenken does too.  
  
I'm out. _  
  
Ken crossed his arms and muttered, "He sure as hell deserves it. Not like he'd let any of us go."  
  
Omi's eyes flicked to Ken, serious despite the tears. "But it's his choice." He didn't sound convinced.  
  
Ran crumpled the napkin and threw it back on the table. It rolled off the edge to the floor. "Manx?"  
  
Omi shook his head. "I haven't told her...I didn't want..."  
  
The unspoken _to get Yohji killed_ hung between his words.  
  
"Ken's right," Ran said, lips thin. He spun on his heel, heading back out the door.  
  
Ken snorted behind him. "He's long gone, man. He took Seven. You're wasting your time. And since when do you care?"  
  
"But Aya-kun-" Omi started.  
  
He slammed the door on his way out.  
  
*****  
  
The road blurred in front of Yohji. He dragged a hand across his eyes, skewing his sunglasses.  
  
The streetlights were like fireflies in the dark, skimming past his peripheral vision. He'd gone at least ten miles out of the city before he'd turned around.  
  
Not to go back to Weiss. He'd made up his mind.  
  
It was only that there was a sinking feeling in his gut he couldn't place, the farther he went. His current thought was that if his past chased his heels - if it didn't matter how far he ran, because his sins would always hunt him down - maybe he'd throw it off his tracks by ghosting it himself. If he stayed in the city, who would expect that?  
  
It was a shallow excuse. The truth was he was too self-indulgent to leave. His memories were a familiar haunting.  
  
_Or was he simply not ready to let them all go?_  
  
He should be more than ready. He never liked the killing, and it scared him that he was good at it. He didn't have Omi's belief in the system, Ken's desperation or Aya's...  
  
... _why was Aya still there?_  
  
His sister is what he would say. But he was more than able to protect her on his own. They could go anywhere, he could have a future. It was more than any of them had, Yohji included.  
  
_Shut up, Kudoh!_ Yohji snapped at himself angrily. It wasn't his business anymore, and not like it ever had been in the first place.  
  
_He was going back to the city to lie low, until Kritiker wasn't expecting him to show. Then he'd get a fake passport and leave for Britain._  
  
That was the plan. Right now, the airports would be watched.  
  
_So he was going back to the city to lie low._ He settled on the excuse with a touch of relief.  
  
The buildings rose up around him, the landscape shifting from green countryside to bleak industrialism. The slick vista of metal, lights and grime felt like coming home. He never trusted anything that looked peaceful on the surface, and the country fell into that category.  
  
Maybe that was why he had never trusted Aya. He suppressed everything into visible numbness, until those occasions when violent truth broke the surface.  
  
Even deeper though, Yohji had thought he'd seen something else. When he'd gotten the man against the wall, it had been in those damnable purple depths. It hadn't been pain, for once - one of the few other constant emotions Yohji had witnessed.  
  
Whatever it had been, it wasn't accessible.  
  
And if it was - he was such an idiot. What had he thought Aya Fujimiya would want with Yohji Kudoh?  
  
Yohji's fingers tightened on the steering wheel.  
  
It was so goddamned easy for him to pick up anybody he wanted. If it was anyone else, he would have stuck it out and chisled away until the ice broke apart. The truth, though, was that it all depended on that 'anyone else' not to actually know him. It was so much easier to believe his own lies when no one involved was any more the wiser.  
  
He could play the playboy with Weiss all he wanted. It wouldn't work. Aya knew who he was, down to his bloody core.  
  
No one ever said that Yohji Kudoh didn't have a death wish, but he wasn't a masochist. There was only so much pain of one sort a guy could take.  
  
_Asuka, Asuka._  
  
The kids would be okay without him. No one ever really wanted him there. He was just the resident layabout. They all knew it was just a matter of time before he left, right?  
  
Yohji pulled into a back alley and parked, sandwiched carefully between a dumpster and a truck so that his distinguishable vehicle wouldn't be distinguished.  
  
_I was so sick of it all, anyway._  
  
I'm sick of it all, Asuka.  
  
*****  
  
The streets were crowded, and Tokyo seemed empty to Ran.  
  
The night hinted at the coming spring, a cool breeze threading through the strands of his hair like the fingers of a ghost.   
  
He'd given up.   
  
Yohji was gone.  
  
Ken had been right. If Yohji had made the decision to leave, he wouldn't be found so easily, and probably never again in the city.   
  
_Omi was right as well. If Yohji had decided to leave, who was he to say otherwise?_  
  
He had been so mired in the events of the past all these years. If Yohji hadn't been patient enough for him -   
  
_He had never wanted you to begin with._ Ran corrected himself. _You were just a challenge._   
  
What had he been looking for in Yohji, anyway? The pull had been there since the beginning, but Ran had assumed the feeling was fate, the simple similarity of their hells. He hadn't examined the difference in his feelings toward Yohji and the other Weiss.   
  
_The man had bothered me since the beginning,_ Ran acknowledged. But he was also the one Ran was most honest with.  
  
 _It doesn't matter._ Perhaps he himself had only been looking for a distraction in Yohji. It was a scant few days since the tower -  
  
 _Since they had all nearly died._  
  
Nothing in their lives were certain, least of all their survival.   
  
_But he had done what he had set out to do._ He was still alive. He hadn't expected it.  
  
Perhaps he had just been trying to touch the whispered possibility of freedom, like the phantom kiss of wind on his face.   
  
Of all people, he never thought he would have become so deluded.  
  
Yohji must have seen it in him. It was his nature to find Ran's weaknesses, and use them against him.   
  
Ran's finger's curled, then relaxed by his side. He stuffed his hands back inside the pockets of his coat.  
  
Throngs of laughing college students and drunk businessmen stumbled past him on the street. Tokyo never slept. A fitting city for an assassin.   
  
He turned down an alley and looked up at the glowing sign.   
  
In a way, he supposed, this is where it started. A realization that watered the seed of hope he hadn't even known he'd held.   
  
"Hey, man, I recognize you, yanno. You coming in this time?"   
  
Ran blinked. He recognized the bouncer as well.   
  
He looked back up at the sign.  
  
 _Malchiki._  
  
He gave a short nod to the man, who practically beamed at him as if Ran had done him a favor. "Enjoy yourself," the bouncer called.  
  
It was fitting, Ran thought, that he said goodbye to the possibility of another life in the same place.   
  
_Or maybe I'm just stalking Yohji's shadow._   
  
Like he'd lived in his sister's, like he'd taken her name. Looking to keep a ghost by his side.   
  
_I'm allowed to be curious._ The thought surprised him.  
  
The air was warm inside, with a slight breeze from silver fans attached to a high warehouse ceiling. An all-male band was singing on stage, accompanied by an electronic beat.   
  
A crush of people was on the dance floor. Seeing so many bodies, knowing that among them perhaps there were one or two that deserved his blade, and the others protection, and feeling so many possibilities for ended lives -  
  
Ran turned sharply on his heel and followed the stairs downward to the bar, in the quieter underbelly of the club.  
  
*****


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit in this chapter.

*****  
  
This had been a stupid idea.  
  
What had Ran been hoping to find? Yohji, lurking in Tokyo's gay clubs, when he was more likely to be on a plane?  
  
Ran was an assassin. This was Yohji's purview - pretending to be a normal twenty-something-year-old. Ignoring who he'd become. Ran had difficulty being himself, let alone pretending to be someone different.  
  
_Even if he were a "normal" man - he would never wander here._ The thought slipped in, surprising him. The crowd, the noise, the drunks and the drugged - it all made him uncomfortable. The thought that he could take any one of them made him feel more safe, though not at ease.  
  
It wasn't a logical thought. He wasn't "normal". There was no point in considering what he would do if he had the choice. Yohji's ability to look beyond that - perhaps he was jealous of it.  
  
Ran had a purpose.  
  
_No, he didn't._  
  
He had his sister.  
  
_No - he didn't._  
  
He had Weiss.  
  
That was a constant. Even if members left, he realized with a start, looking at his empty vodka glass. Even if they changed, and Manx gave them new members, _he_ would still be Weiss.  
  
When they replaced Yohji, he would still be Weiss.  
  
He was sure they would. Four assassins worked more smoothly, made more sense than three. Teams of two. Of course they would replace him.  
  
And it didn't matter, not really, he supposed. Purpose or no, he knew his place.  
  
Ran pushed up from the bar, sick. Not drunk - he'd only had one drink - not even buzzed. But suddenly he felt nauseous.  
  
*****  
  
Ran took the back alley out of the club, he didn't feel like being among any more people. The streets had probably emptied out some, but they wouldn't be deserted. He rounded the corner, head down to discourage the bouncer from talking to him.  
  
He watched his feet pass over the filthy cement, kicking up mud and grey litter, discarded pill packets and cigarettes.  
  
He rounded the corner onto the back street, and ran headfirst into someone.  
  
His head snapped up at the same time Yohji's did.  
  
Both of their hands were poised over weapons they weren't wearing.  
  
Yohji's eyes, wide with horror and something else, quickly narrowed into slits behind his sunglasses.  
  
Ran remained frozen.  
  
After a moment, Yohji lowered his arms, stuffing his hands into his coat. His face was determined. He kept his gaze on Ran's for a moment longer, then pushed past him, toward the club.  
  
As if he were a stranger.  
  
The alley was deserted, and unlit.  
  
Yohji let out a small laugh as he passed. It contained no humor, only pain.  
  
Ran slammed sideways into him before he made it past, hand shooting out to ram into Yohji's shoulder. He spun him into the concrete of the building before he reached the corner.  
  
He warred with himself. It took him a second to hold back from throwing the punch to his stomach, grabbing Yohji by the head instead.  
  
He took him in, raking over Yohji's length, almost unbelieving.  
  
_He was still in Tokyo._  
  
He closed his eyes. Yohji wasn't moving.  
  
When he opened them again, Yohji had taken his glasses off. His face was raw in the shadowed light.  
  
His broken expression was what Ran had needed to see.  
  
_That this decision had hurt him as well._  
  
Ran slammed himself back into Yohji, pressing them both against the wall. His lips found Yohji's, devoured them. His hands stayed in Yohji's hair, clamped around the back of his head. Keeping him in place. Opened his mouth, Yohji mirroring him.  
  
_You can't go yet._  
  
Yohji's hands gripped Ran's lower back, grinding the men together. He moved his hips into Ran's, in a way that wasn't necessary and felt like torture with their clothes between them. Yohji's muscles, his hardness, were both familiar and uncharted.  
  
Finally, Ran pulled away, gasping. Yohji stepped forward after him, back into his space. Ran leaned forward, not touching him, but unable to pull away again. Yohji bent his head to look at him, eyes intense.  
  
"I _feel_ ," he rasped at Yohji.  
  
_How could you have started this, before you left._  
  
He reached for Yohji's belt, slid his hands down over the smooth fabric of his pants beneath his coat. Shoved him into the wall again, followed him into it. Yohji took in a ragged breath.  
  
"You should have said so sooner." Yohji said, but it was soft. His hand reached up, ran through the bloody strands of Ran's hair. His hips bucked up into Ran's hand. "Dammit, Aya."  
  
"Ran," He corrected immediately. His irritation for once was overshadowed by the knowledge that Yohji was _right_.  
  
Yohji kissed him fiercely, then pushed him off only to grab his arm. He suddenly found himself being dragged around the corner, back to the club. "Not there," Yohji hissed over his shoulder.  
  
The warm air of the club, the deep beat vibrating through the floor of the landing hit him like a slap. Yohji tugged him past the bouncer and down the stairs, and down another flight he hadn't seen before, and through a hallway into a back room with bodies on couches. Ran was careful not to look at them, but followed Yohji into another room.  
  
It was a kitchen. He noticed the bill Yohji slapped into the hand of a chef before he was pulled through the doors of the staff's bathroom.  
  
A click and the door was locked. The room had three stalls, all empty. The paint was chipping, an ugly pale green trimmed with white, like a hospital.  
  
Yohji pushed him into the wall before he could process his response.  
  
_Not going to do this in a restroom, like a -_  
  
But he was going to.  
  
He couldn't keep suppressing this, suppressing what he felt, passing up again on something he'd ignored, when the cost was a slower death than the one he'd always been expecting to come, when it never had -  
  
Ran jerked into motion, tugging the coat off of Yohji's shoulders, letting the man reciprocate. Yohji slid a hand down his stomach, under the waist of his jeans, the fabric beneath, while his other hand cupped his head at his neck, his mouth traveling down Ran's throat.  
  
Suddenly, Yohji stopped. He pulled back, leaving Ran heaving against the wall, fingers curled against the tiles.  
  
"You said you felt. So say it."  
  
Ran's eyes snapped fully open. He stepped forward.  
  
"Say it!" Yohji held him off, fingertips pressing into Ran's chest.  
  
Ran set his jaw stubbornly, started working on Yohji's pants. He grabbed Ran, throwing his arms against the wall, caught at the wrists. "Say it!"  
  
Violet eyes flicked to the side, steeled as they returned to Yohji's. "I...care...for you."  
  
A wicked, grim smile turned the corners of Yohji's mouth. "That's not it." He bent slightly, open mouth sliding against Ran's neck. "But I'll take it. Ran."  
  
Ran dragged him forward with a growl, removing Yohji's belt and tugging down the zipper of his black pants. Blue silk boxers beneath. His hand gripped Yohji through them, the feel of him like a release.  
  
_He had thought he would never get the chance again._ Ran passed a thumb over his tip, was gratified by the shudder that ran through the other assassin.  
  
Yohji had finally relaxed, his body moving with a familiar fluid grace. He managed to take Ran's shirt off and tug down his jeans simultaneously. He made similar work of his boxers, and his own.  
  
Yohji stepped back, running his eyes up and down Ran's body. "Do you know, baby," he breathed, "How long I've wanted you?"  
  
The endearment, for once, was allowed.  
  
Yohji turned, bent gracefully, rummaged in his coat and came out with a couple coins. Ran could only watch the play of muscles beneath his bare skin. Yohji went to the vending machine on the wall, came back with two packets. "Might come in handy?" He said with a leer laced with good humor.  
  
Ran growled, and took them from him. Pulled open the condom, hesitated, but Yohji pulled it on Ran before he'd decided.  
  
Ran's breath caught at Yohji's touch. He took his time, fingers playing over his length, turning into a circle, pumping him as Ran pressed his fingers into Yohji's back, kneeding him. Deftly opened the packet, slicked his hand, pressed inside. Yohji arched and Ran kissed his throat. It was rough with beginning stubble. He dragged his lips across his adam's apple, and sucked where his neck met his shoulder.  
  
He flipped them around adeptly, before he came into Yohji's hand, and held onto him, breathing ragged. Their bodies trembled together. Yohji braced himself, palms flat into the wall, back bent. Ran began pumping him, and when his heart rate slowed enough he pressed slowly inside.  
  
Yohji bucked onto him, faster than Ran would have liked. He caught up.  
  
They moved together, the beat of the club still pulsing from above. Ran and Yohji finally caught the same rhythm, Yohji shuddering and pliant, Ran desperate with the force of what he was being allowed to do.  
  
He came shuddering against Yohji, falling against the muscles of the other man's back, cheek pressed against his skin. He kept his fingers moving even as he jerked in the aftermath.  
  
Yohji came with a shout, crumpling forward.  
  
Ran held him up. He pulled out gently, biting hard on his lip to keep from making any noise.  
  
He bent his head as Yohji turned. White liquid mingled between their legs. Ran closed his eyes against it.  
  
Yohji pulled him forward, wrapped Ran in his arms. His lips moved against Ran's hair, but he couldn't make out what Yohji was saying, or if the words were even meant for him.  
  
_What had he done._  
  
******


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a crash course in Gluhen!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes:
> 
> \- Some of the dialogue in this is TAKEN DIRECTLY from episodes of Gluhen.

*****  
  
Yohji looked down, pressed a kiss into Aya's hair. _Ran's_ hair. It was soft, slightly wirey, as red hair was prone to be. One of the white ceramic sinks across from him dripped water from the rusty plumbing underneath.  
  
The release of finally being able to touch the other man did not heal him.   
  
He still felt the part of him that was a killer taking over. If he stayed in Weiss, that's all he would become.   
  
_Ah, Asuka. What do you think of me now?  
  
You really love him, Yohji.  
  
I'll hurt him, just like I did you. Kill him.  
  
He might kill you first, you know.  
  
No, none of that's it._  
  
He trailed a finger down Ran's cheek. The man finally stirred. They'd been in there an hour, and his tip to the chef was probably insufficient funds. He was amazed that Ran had allowed him to hold him naked on the floor of a public restroom for so long - let alone anywhere else, the best hotels in Tokyo included.  
  
Ran got up first, took his clothes, sat on the wooden bench across from the stalls to tug on his jeans. Yohji allowed himself to watch before getting up to put on his own clothes.  
  
"Stay." Ran said.  
  
Yohji jerked toward the sound of Ran's voice. The man's head was down, red eartails hanging in his face. His hair clashed with the backdrop of the mint tiles of the restroom wall.  
  
 _I believe you, ah, I'm never gonna learn._   
  
Yohji was such a bastard. He couldn't change who he was. But Ran had to understand that staying with Weiss - it would destroy him. Now, it would destroy them both.  
  
"Come with me," Yohji countered. The idea stuck. "Ran! We'll take Aya-chan. What does Weiss have left for us? Aren't you sick of it? Aren't you sick of fighting, and killing people we - just the killing, Ran! We'll sell flowers somewhere -"  
  
Ran looked up. The expression on his face was one Yohji had seen only a handful of times, and he'd hoped he'd never have to see it again.   
  
His eyes actually had tears in them.  
  
"We're Weiss, Yohji."  
  
"I'm not. Not anymore," Yohji countered.  
  
There was a long pause. Ran closed his eyes. He opened them again, and they were steady. " _I'm_ Weiss. I'll always be Weiss. I know my place, Yohji - I can't, I won't abandon my responsibilities. And I won't take Aya-chan away from her family."  
  
Yohji's fingers curled against the wall. A sort of desperation constricted his throat. "Come with me," he choked.  
  
Ran didn't answer. For once, he hadn't fallen back into that practiced neutrality, but for the first time Yohji wished he had.   
  
"It's your choice, Yohji." Ran said softly.   
  
Yohji gasped, and stumbled out of the bathroom without looking back.  
  
*****  
  
 _Years later._  
  
*****  
  
Ran looked at a tattered photograph on the shelf in his room. He brushed it with his thumb. Three teammates, two gone, one hiding behind voice modulation and a crackling transmission.  
  
 _"Does everyone in Weiss have a tragedy locked inside their hearts? Even you?"_ Sena had asked.  
  
A new teammate, an old pain.  
  
 _Aya-chan.  
  
His parents.   
  
Omi, Ken.  
  
...Yohji._  
  
Yohji.  
  
Sena reminded reminded him so sharply of himself. Of the process it had taken to get him to where he'd been, years ago.  
  
 _Before his sister had woken up.  
  
...before..._  
  
He wouldn't wish that existance on anyone. Least of all Sena, who hadn't yet experienced what came of that life.  
  
He still could have a future, other than a killer. His memories of this academy would be a distant hurt sooner than he thought.  
  
 _"And our humanity is the most important part of ourselves we have to offer,"_ he had finally answered.  
  
Did he really believe that? Or was he offering false hope? He had seen human nature, and it was destructive at its core.  
  
Nevertheless - perhaps Aya, the true Aya, the one who had lived years ago would have believed that. But Ran, who called himself Aya -  
  
 _He supposed he had his teammates to thank for that. His sister's vibrant life, in part, but it had taken something more to get him to this place.  
  
Where he _cared _if the boy who reminded him simultaneously of himself, and a mixture of former teammates, was lost._  
  
It was futile for those who had already chosen his path to try and outrun their destiny. Yohji had tried, but Ran had no delusions that the other man ever managed to find his escape. They were too similar. Ken - he didn't dwell on Ken. Perhaps he'd managed to trick himself into peace. But Sena, he still felt there was hope for him.  
  
 _I truly hope you choose to leave...and never look back._  
  
It seemed it was Ran's fate to be granted friendship, and have it leave him.  
  
*****  
  
"Abysinnian."  
  
"Persia," Ran acknowledged, playing along as he always did. Omi had grown into someone he might hate, had he not known the boy's history, his motivations, the strength it took to take on the role that had abandoned Omi himself, all those years ago. It was Omi's choice, to be who he felt he needed to be. Just as it had been Ran's.  
  
"Two members of Weiss have been reassigned to your team. Their code names are Balinese and Siberian, otherwise known as -"  
  
It was all the warning he had, that Ken and Yohji were even still alive.  
  
"Are you okay?" Sena's voice called from upstairs.   
  
He must have made a sound. He released his fingers stiffly from the cushions of the couch, and composed himself.  
  
"We have new teammates," he said.  
  
*****  
  
Smiles in place. Introductions between teaching staff were in order, and Ran had to play the part. It had almost been a break for him, pretending to be a teacher. As if he had a real life. The bright light of the academy's hallway made Kudoh's new bleached-blond, hideously cropped hair all the more garish.  
  
Ran had remembered how to pretend in Yohji's absence. It was a child's game that the former Aya could never bear.  
  
He kept his tone smooth. It was programmed into him these days. "Fujimiya."  
  
But Yohji was laughing at him, behind the pleasantries. "Yohji Kudoh."  
  
It had been too long.   
  
Yohji had made the choice for them both before, when he left. Now that he'd made the choice to return, who was he to argue?  
  
Yohji no longer had any hold on him.  
  
*****  
  
 _Ran had been so_ uncaring.  
  
Could he blame him? Yohji knew fully what he'd done. Exactly, when it came down to it, Ran had probably thought he was going to.  
  
 _Fuck him, then leave him. Then go and fall in love with some other women, just like Ran was probably accusing him of, in his head. Ah, you're so self centered, Kudoh. Like Ran even cared that you were gone._  
  
 _Ah, Asuka, but at least I didn't choke him, like the others, eh? We're both still alive? He even seems happy, doesn't he?  
  
...you try to seem happy, don't you, Yohji? You're a pretty tough bastard to get to know sometimes.  
  
I know, Asuka. I'm sorry. I should have been more open with you -  
  
Don't worry about it, Yohji!_ Asuka's ghost laughed at him. _I wasn't all that open with you, either, you know. Don't tell me you've forgotten!_  
  
"No, no," Yohji muttered. "I'll never forget." He hit the desk in front of him, sending papers flying through the empty classroom. "That's the goddamned problem!"  
  
 _No, that's not it..._  
  
*****  
  
"Is there something you can't tell even us?" Ran stared him down evenly, across the roof. It was a sunny day, and Ran's long, unfamiliar braid was blowing behind him.  
  
Yohji wanted to cut it off with his garrote. He'd been avoiding this moment since he was reassigned to Weiss. His plan to avoid Aya - _Ran, dammit!_ \- at all costs was blown to hell. "Have you ever wanted to erase your past?"  
  
"No." Ran's answer was even, and immediate.  
  
 _There you go, Yohji. He's no longer hurt by his past, he no longer cares about it. Which means he doesn't give one shit about you. Of course he doesn't. None of the others did either, except you, Asuka. Of course, except for you._ "Just leave me alone."  
  
Yohji brushed past him, and didn't look back.  
  
Ran made no move to stop him.  
  
*****  
  
Had Ran always known it would come to this? It surprised him that now, at the cusp of their deaths, and possibly that of the world, Yohji had chosen this moment to fight him. He supposed in Yohji's mind, it was now or never.  
  
 _Nagi's arrival had been unexpected.  
  
Nagi's _employment _had been unexpected.  
  
They had a psychotic enemy with allies as powerful as Schwartz. Genetic tampering. Revenge to carry out. _Justice _to carry out._  
  
 _Schwartz_ wasn't even trying to kill them. And yet, the feel of slick wire tightened across his throat.   
  
It was not the time to be so selfish as to focus on their own meager history.   
  
...Was his memory really so short?   
  
_Yohji's own needs had always been paramount to him._ He'd been a fool to ever forget that.  
  
"If we start this, one of us will die." Ran stated.   
  
_"You hate me, Yohji."_ Words said a lifetime ago, echoing back to the present.   
  
Distant tremors rocked the grey roof beneath their feet. The sound of fighting was carried through the breeze, rising from deep within the walls of the tower.  
  
 _There was no time._  
  
"Is tricking ourselves not allowed?" Yohji's tone was desperate. "I will be reborn, Aya, and you won't stop me."  
  
"I don't want to be hurt anymore, to be betrayed or betray -" Ran replied, keeping his tone even.  
  
 _He would deal with the emotional consequences of this later. Or perhaps it wouldn't matter, after all._  
  
"You didn't even care that I left, did you?" Yohji's mouth pulled down into a frown. His hand remained steady on his weapon.  
  
"You didn't seem to mind being gone." Ran bit out.  
  
Yohji laughed. "You really are an emotionless bastard, aren't you? It took this long for you to even acknowledge that something happened, Aya. But guess what, it did, _Ran._ "  
  
"What about you!"  
  
"I don't dwell on the past any more."  
  
 _The wire at his neck said otherwise._  
  
Ran kept his gaze level. "I am not the person you knew, Yohji. I suppose in some ways I have you to thank for that. But I won't be _used_ again by you!"  
  
"You won't be," Yohji said softly. Anger sparked again in his eyes. _Familiar, despite the new pain in them, despite the new fogginess that made the man seem lost._ "Is this who you wished to be? Answer me, Aya!"  
  
He supposed, in retrospect, that the explosion saved them both.  
  
*****  
  
The two figures seemed small within the metal and mechanical tower of Kua Academy. Facing off again, Ran across the room from Yohji and the woman between them.  
  
 _How dare Yohji return, just to tell him he should try to forget._  
  
He couldn't blame him for who he was.  
  
 _But he could be angry that he was making the wrong choices, as always, couldn't he?_ Ran was struggling to save them all from themselves, and was drowning in the waves of his effort.  
  
 _But you couldn't save Sena, could you._ No. The boy was still on this mission with them, still fighting when he should have run to his bright future.  
  
"I'm going to live."   
  
Ran's eyes widened.   
  
It wasn't the response he'd been expecting.  
  
Yohji's face was grim, and jubillant. His eyes found Ran's and held them, across the shoulder of the woman who threatened to kill them all. Her eyes were wide, maniacal.  
  
"Don't die, Yohji." Ran bit out.  
  
It was an admission.   
  
_Ran still cared._  
  
They were both beyond salvation.  
  
 _And still some part of him hoped that in the end, when this was done, they could save each other.  
  
Or, if not that - perhaps they at least had comfort left to offer._  
  
*****  
  
 _Comfort._   
  
Omi-Mamoru- _Persia's_ voice crackled across the transmission, finally decoded. It was just as unrecognizable despite that, emotionless and businesslike. "Balinese lost his memories in the destruction of the academy. He has been relocated to a new life. It is strongly recommended that none of you try to contact him. Siberian -" the new head of the Takatori family paused. The voice was softer when it continued. "Siberian has taken leave, perhaps permanently."  
  
 _No,_ Ran affirmed to himself, as the transmission sputtered out, leaving the empty mission room in silence. _There is no comfort for people like us._  
  
Ran had been given again what he wanted most, only to have it taken from him.  
  
Perhaps there was a lesson to be learned.  
  
 _"Is tricking ourselves not allowed?"_ Yohji's voice echoed back to him.  
  
How could he have forgotten? How could he have thought, even for a moment, that their choices mattered?  
  
In the end, every one of them was just the pawn of fate.  
  
*****


	9. Chapter 9

  
*****  
  
It was snowing outside.  
  
Large, fluffy flakes. It would have been a torrential downpour, but for the difference of a few degrees.  
  
Ran pressed the back of his forefinger against the glass, drawing one leg up onto the cushion of the window seat. He kept it there until the cold soaked through the skin and sharpened into pain.  
  
His eyes focused on his reflection, then passed by his own pale face to the backdrop of his empty apartment. There were a couple cards from his sister on the table, a flower arrangement she'd brought from the shop. The glow of his reading lamp almost made the room seem warm, but without Aya's touch it would have been the same sparse layout he'd kept since joining Weiss.  
  
Half a year. An eternity.   
  
He should be looking forward. He should be focusing on Aya, and the possibility of a new life.   
  
_He'd never seen this coming._   
  
It was laughable, but this existance was the one he'd never imagined for himself. The one where he had a job that hurt no one, in which his sister was awake and thriving.   
  
He set his book aside, and stared down at the street. The snow was laying on the ground, pristine in the quiet night.   
  
How could he set his past aside now?  
  
He hadn't seen it at the time. Weiss had given him purpose.   
  
_It never had been his choice. To stay, to live, to kill, to die._  
  
He'd gone where he felt he should, all those years. His one goal had been to see his sister's eyes open, to have her take back her name. Somehow it had gotten tangled in the threads of his teammate's goals, and when he'd unraveled the knots he'd found only one thread.  
  
Perhaps the others had seen more clearly. Yohji had, somehow. He'd tried to tell Ran that he wasn't alone in his suffering. And when Ran didn't listen, or perhaps simply couldn't hear, Yohji showed him what he'd meant with his physical absence. Right at the cusp of Ran's awakening, Yohji had left Weiss.  
  
Omi, Ken. It had been like the three remaining Weiss were missing a limb.   
  
They'd left soon after. And instead of freedom, he'd only found new teammates, new pain in their deaths.   
  
_Kyo, Sena._  
  
Ken had lost himself in the absence of their purpose. Omi had given in to the siren-song of his fate.  
  
Yohji had been rewarded. A new life, no memory of his past, a blank slate. He saw him sometimes, on the streets of Tokyo. He always looked happy. Ran refused to be the one to bring back his pain, though memories of green eyes and the fleeting opportunity of skin beneath his fingers skirted through his nights.  
  
As sometimes did the feel of cold wire wrapped around his throat, and spoken, cutting truths.  
  
They had been too similar, in their suffering.  
  
He supposed he'd gotten what he'd wanted as well, in the end.  
  
Ran pushed off of the seat, and went to get ready for bed.  
  
*****  
  
Ryo trailed a finger along the rough surface of the red brick, and pressed his back against the solid building.  
  
For a moment, all he could think was how _familiar_ the position felt.  
  
Like a thousand other little, worthless movements and mannerisms he couldn't quite place the source of. Where he'd picked up his nervous habit of keeping his back toward a wall in restaurants, how sometimes he preferred to close his eyes when Asuka topped him in bed, like they weren't face to face. The way he sometimes played with his chopsticks between his fingers, like they should have been a lit cigarette. Asuka chided him that if he had ever smoked, it was better that he couldn't remember the habit.   
  
Ryo laughed a little at himself. He didn't know what he was playing at, trying to give significance to a life that was unreachable to him. He couldn't remember it; no one was looking for him. It apparently hadn't been worth much.   
  
He was grateful for his wife, his house, his boring, peaceful job. Somehow, he knew it was better than he ever deserved.  
  
Asuka was kind to him. She was a good partner.  
  
He stopped himself from following down that line of thought, as he always did. There was more to it than that, more meaning to why those were the only thoughts that surfaced when he thought of his wife. He pushed them back behind easy gratitude.  
  
 _Yet, he was here._  
  
He always stopped here.  
  
He had walked by the construction site across the road from where he hid every day last summer.  
  
He shouldn't be surprised that it had returned.  
  
The sounds of drilling and picks and metal being moved and scraped was nearly deafening. He hated how the noise broke into his peaceful walking commute.  
  
He peered around the corner.  
  
His breath caught.   
  
Asuka sometimes teased him about being gay. His response was always that it didn't matter if he had been, did it, and used her argument about the cigarettes as a comparison. Bad habits better left behind, and he was still her husband, he said firmly. Who she saw was who she had.  
  
 _But that wasn't it, was it?_ He wasn't so transfixed by the worker, as he was unable to drop the feeling that he _knew_ him.  
  
 _And he'd come back this year._ He didn't recognize more than a handful of others on the team, and yet, _he_ was there again.  
  
 _And someone was going to call the cops on him if he stayed lurking in the alley like this much longer._ Ryo laughed at himself. He swung his briefcase around the corner to warn coming passerby and strolled onto the street, back into the sun. Into the crowd.  
  
He didn't look toward the familiar worker. He never did.   
  
_Asuka said she was making soup for supper._ He'd go home, they'd have a pleasant meal - he'd take out the trash and do the dishes. Just like he always did. He was blessed to have such a happy existance.   
  
He was curious, though, as to what his former self would have thought of it all. Whoever that had been.  
  
Perhaps he was imagining it - but he felt eyes on him as he passed.  
  
He always did.  
  
*****  
  
Yohji was there again. The man had taken to hiding in the shadows of the building across the street from the site of his summer employment.  
  
It had been many months since they'd last crossed paths. Ran had seen carefully to that.  
  
Did he remember?  
  
 _Or, was he still just a pervert._ The wry thought almost made Ran smile, despite the pain brought by the ghost watching him work.  
  
 _You said you wanted to live, Yohji. Stop haunting the dead._  
  
He threw the pick forward, and the handle felt like a sword in his palms. It connected solidly with concrete, shattering the surface of the old foundation with a thunk.  
  
There was no thinking involved with this work.  
  
Persia had been right. It was a reprieve.  
  
*****  
  
"Ran?"  
  
He mustered a smile, took off his work helmet and placed it carefully on the bench, shaking out his matted, short cut hair. The earttails had returned at his sister's insistence - he'd never attracted anyone but perverts if he kept that braid, according to Aya-chan.  
  
He did it, as he did everything, to make her happy.   
  
"Niisan? Hard day?"  
  
He ruffled her hair after he returned from washing his hands and face. "It was fine, Aya. As always."  
  
His sister frowned. "Sometimes I think-" she bit her lip, and turned back to where she stirred their dinner on the stove.  
  
Every Thursday, he came for dinner. She lived in an apartment building, in a room next to the Kritiker family that had taken her in. The complex was Kritiker-controlled, but she was no prisoner. She was still safer, as Ran saw it, with him in the peripheral of her life.   
  
Sometimes it seemed like he'd arrive, and find that he'd imagined all of it. That she would still be in a coma. Or that she had only just woken up, and the round-faced foster mother would greet him at the door instead.  
  
He had balked at the regular contact. It was what he most wanted - but he wasn't so far gone from Weiss that he was deluded enough to think his presence was safe for her.  
  
Until she had begun walking to his apartment at night, by herself. Ran had reluctantly agreed to visiting her.   
  
It had been over a year, since he'd given his sister a glimpse into what it had been like for him when she'd been in a coma. A year since she'd had to wait by his side in a hospital for him to get better, since the kid had stabbed him and then lost his nerve to take his wallet, leaving him bleeding on the street. After which came orders from Persia to take a break, a mandate from above to try out a simpler life. Ken had finally released himself from prison, but had never returned. The last he'd heard the soccer player was traveling.  
  
And his sister had decided to take up selling flowers at the koneko.   
  
He wasn't sure if her presence there was rewriting the building's history, or keeping it alive.   
  
The echoes, though, were only audible to him.  
  
"Are people - are the other workers bothering you, brother?" Aya-chan said abruptly, turning to place fried rice in front of him, and then in front of herself. She sat down, hands folded, eyes serious.  
  
"No. Thank you for the meal." He began to eat. He softened his tone. "Tell me about your day, Aya."  
  
She didn't look happy with him, but she did so.  
  
*****  
Ryo wasn't alone in his observation of the worker.  
  
The girl was on the other side of the road, hovering on the sidewalk just beyond the plastic fence. She was so unobtrusive that Ryo was positive she could have been there longer than he had been. Her hands were clasped in front of her as she watched the red-haired man work.  
  
Ryo might have been disappointed, he admitted to himself. Or perhaps he was just bummed that his detective skills were off.  
  
That earned himself a snort. _What detective skills, you idiot? You crunch numbers for a living._  
  
It was boring as hell. And there certainly wasn't any investigation involved, unless it concerned that misplaced three or the phone number women (and the occasional man, he had to admit) sometimes dropped on the edge of their forms.  
  
At any rate, he'd never seen anyone greet the worker before this. Some part of him -  
  
 _Another idiotic thought. You need to stop going out for drinks with the boss._  
  
-had been expecting that when one finally did, it would have been another man.  
  
The worker hadn't noticed either of them, so far. He always devoted such determined concentration to such menial work. Ryo sometimes wondered what his face looked like up close, underneath the helmet and beneath the fall of hair.  
  
The girl across the street seemed to reach her own conclusion. Her shoulders sagged, just perceptibly, and she turned to leave.  
  
"Hey! Stop!" Ryo jolted out of his hiding place. The girl had spun into the street without looking.  
  
He'd been wrong. The worker had seen her.  
  
 _He'd seen them both._ Even across the distance, the startling color of unusual amethyst eyes flashed as they met his own.   
  
He felt discarded. There was no mutual recognition in the look.  
  
The worker reached her first, throwing down his tool and leaping over the plastic fence to jerk her out of the way before any traffic reached her. They both stumbled backwards onto the sidewalk, the man's arms shaking as they tightened around her shoulders.  
  
From what Ryo heard of the tone of his voice, he was yelling at her. It sparked an anger in him.  
  
 _So, that shattered all delusions he'd held of the man being a simple, kind, hard-worker._ He apparently was an asshole.  
  
Ryo jogged across the street. "Hey!" He demanded, when neither of them noticed him. "Hey! That's no way to talk to a woman!"  
  
Both of them looked up, startled. The similarity of their faces blew Ryo's perceptions apart, again.  
  
"I'm okay, niisan!" The girl said, insistently. She pushed off what apparently was her brother. Ryo noted the reluctance as the other man let her go.  
  
Up close, the nagging familiarity became a burning _recognition._  
  
 _If he could only_ place _it._  
  
The worker's features were delicate, but looked worn despite the obvious beauty. The man had a hard set to his mouth that reached his eyes. When they flicked to his sister, though, concern bled through. He doubted the man realized it.   
  
His frame was small, but well-built. He was shorter than Ryo had expected. The skin was pale and flawless despite the constant sun exposure of his job.   
  
"This isn't your business," the man finally growled. He reached out, and tugged on the girl's hand.  
  
The girl gave him a smile over her shoulder, as they turned to go. "Thank you, though! He was just being -"  
  
Suddenly, she stopped. So immediately that her brother jerked on her arm, then turned, surprise breaking through the emotionless expression.   
  
"Y-Yohji?" The girl asked. Her eyes were wide. Her head whipped back to look at the man who was so familiar, then back again to Ryo.  
  
 _That_ name. _  
  
That name was so familiar..._  
  
Another emotion leaked through the expression on the worker's face. It made the man seem much younger than he would have guessed, perhaps younger than him, even. Ryo couldn't identify it, but it was close enough to pain that Ryo felt he'd been right in his suspicions.   
  
The man took hold of his sister's hand again. "We don't know him." He said shortly. He pulled her after him.  
  
She glanced back at Ryo as they left, eyes concerned.  
  
"I think you're lying!" Ryo called after him.  
  
The man didn't look back.  
  
He watched as they disappeared around the corner.  
  
*****  
  
"Hey! Hey!"  
  
Ryo turned, surprised, as the sound of running footsteps caught up and stopped at his back. He was irritated with the interruption - he was only a block from the construction site. He hadn't seen the red-haired man for a week, and he had made up his mind to ask one of the other workers about him today.  
  
The red-haired man (not the right red, Ryo considered) who'd run up to him was possibly as tall as he was. He had a pleasant enough face, but the hard-edged grin turned him off. Ryo raised his arms from his sides, showing his briefcase, then dropped them again. He gave an easy smile. "I didn't drop anything."  
  
"Oh, yes, you did." The man's grin turned sharp. "Your memories. Know where you put them?"  
  
"Who are you?" Ryo took a step backward.  
  
The man continued, as if he hadn't replied at all. "I do. Time to wake up, Yohji."  
  
 _Yohji._  
  
That was what -  
  
"And just for the record, although you won't remember it, kitten - I'd rather kill you than give you that shit of a life back. But - Kritiker is rather lucrative these days." The man snorted. "Lucky you."  
  
Ryo collapsed.  
  
*****


	10. Chapter 10

*****  
  
"R-ryo? Ryo?!"   
  
Fingers tightened on his palm.   
  
He blinked open his eyes to a sterile white ceiling, lit up too much by white lights.   
  
_In a hospital, again._  
  
He stopped on that thought. Ryo had only been in a hospital once, and that was...  
  
He turned his head. Asuka was by his side. "Still watching over me..." he chuckled at his wife, then coughed.   
  
"Easy!" She said. She wasn't in her nurse's uniform, but the tone was commanding. She handed him a glass of water as he eased into a sitting position.  
  
"How long..." he asked.  
  
"Just a couple hours. They found you on the side of a road, they thought it was a hit and run, but you're not injured..." She answered, eyes worried. "Do you remember anything?"  
  
He couldn't hold back the sardonic laugh.  
  
Ryo had only been in a hospital once.  
  
 _Yohji_ , however, had been in one more times than he could count.  
  
"Yes, Asuka." He said, finally. He fell back against the pillows. "I remember goddamned all of it."  
  
*****  
  
"I'm still Weiss!" Ran snapped into the phone, pacing his apartment.  
  
"And right now, you're on leave!" Persia's voice snapped back.   
  
_Mamoru, Omi._ He hadn't given the others enough credit for the transition of his own switch between _Aya_ and _Ran._ He wanted to shout at the former member of Weiss, but it would lead nowhere. This incarnation of Persia knew him better than the last.  
  
Ran flicked off the phone, then threw it across the room.  
  
 _They had enough members, it would be good for him to continue with his current work, a break would be healthy for him..._  
  
What he hadn't told Persia was that it was definitely _unhealthy_ for him to keep running into Yohji. It couldn't be healthy for Yohji himself.   
  
And when he'd explained the situation to Aya-chan, the disappointment in her eyes was evident.   
  
She thought they were both doing the wrong thing.  
  
It hadn't been Yohji's choice though, and it wasn't Ran's place to interfere with his fate. No more than he could save Omi from his, he doubted it would make any difference if he tried.  
  
He leaned his dresser for a moment, shoulders hunched, his palms pressing into the wood.   
  
Finally, he pushed off, and went to find his phone to call the construction firm. Perhaps they would at least give him new placement.  
  
*****  
  
It took Yohji a couple days and all the detective skills he now _remembered_ he'd once had to track down Ran's new site of employment. It was across town, out of the way, by some railroad tracks that shook dust over everything whenever a train passed by. Which seemed to be every hour.   
  
It was, in Yohji's opinion, unpleasant and ridiculous. But didn't that just fit Ran? The man would rather suffer inconvenience after inconvenience, than face the truth when it came to Yohji.  
  
He was always so honest about everything else, Yohji mused.   
  
_Perhaps, Ran, you're just afraid of being happy. Because the last time you were happy, everything came crumbling down, didn't it?_  
  
His sister in a coma.  
  
Yohji leaving Weiss.  
  
That last thought made him snort at himself. He doubted he had any impact on Ran's happiness. Wasn't that just like him, to be so self-centered?   
  
_And yet, he was still there._  
  
Because while he might not affect Ran, Ran certainly had an an impact on _his_ happiness.   
  
_But maybe - maybe that wasn't it.  
  
Maybe Ran had switched jobs because he wanted to be free of Yohji, of his past. Maybe he was finally putting Weiss behind him._  
  
The realization settled uncomfortably over him.   
  
Omi, he suddenly remembered, was probably still Mamoru. Persia. _Not Omi._ Where was Ken, then? Yohji didn't remember seeing him this past year, not once...  
  
Suddenly, he felt ill.   
  
His life was gone.   
  
He couldn't go back to Asuka, not when the name recalled a ghost to him. Not when their marriage was successful only because he'd been someone else this past year.  
  
He couldn't go back to Weiss...because it was gone.  
  
He ran a hand through his hair, the strands were a little longer than they had been at Kua Academy, and were still a pale blond.   
  
He had a divorce to finalize. He couldn't linger here any longer.  
  
 _It doesn't seem fair,_ he thought as he slipped through the fence, back to the sidewalk behind the warehouse, _That you're moving on, after that nice speech you gave me about not forgetting your past, Ran. Ah, and it's definitely not fair to show me peace, just to throw me back into this hell. However it happened._  
  
He had a feeling that he'd never know for sure.   
  
He'd had recurring nightmares about a familiar wide grin, though, in the days since his collapse. He strongly suspected that its owner would have an idea.  
  
He wasn't about to find Schuldig to ask.  
  
*****  
  
Ran finished showering off the fine crust of dirt that had had accumulated on his skin from his new job site. He stepped out and rubbed his hair, upside-down, with the towel before wrapping it around his waist.   
  
_He was going to have to request a transfer, again._ The environment was intolerable there. He was lucky they valued his ability.   
  
_And that Kritiker backed his choices._   
  
He was still valuable to them as well, it seemed.  
  
A sharp knock came on Ran's door, just as he pulled on his pants. It settled a block of ice into his gut, because the only people who had knocked on his door in the past year had been Kritiker agents and Aya.  
  
His landlord, too. The man was afraid of him, though, and had taken to sliding his bills beneath the crack.   
  
He strode across the room without bothering to finish dressing and opened the door, expecting to see his sister.  
  
His eyebrows rose.   
  
Ken grinned at him from the hallway. He had a soccer ball cradled in one elbow, and he was dressed in shorts and a tee-shirt. It was somewhat sweaty. "So, man, you gonna let me in or what?"  
  
*****


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Thanks for sticking with it!

*****  
  
"I thought I'd just stop by. You know, for old time's sake." Ken gave a disdainful look to his glass of water, and set it on his coffee table, sans coaster. Ran didn't have anything stronger to offer him, other than cranberry juice or coffee.   
  
"It's good to see you," Ran said, genuinely.   
  
Ken gave him a look. He had never been good at hiding what he was thinking, and it was clear that he was surprised to hear that statement from Ran.   
  
"So, anyway, man. Like I said, I've been teaching the kids, and it's been great. It makes me feel like I'm worth something, you know? And seeing them - they have their whole lives ahead of them. They can do anything." Ken was looking past Ran's shoulder, out the window. A wide smile graced his features. He refocused. "But I think I'm going to go to Australia now. Always wanted to see it, so I'm going."  
  
Ran's eyebrows raised.  
  
"I guess I just thought I should - I don't know. Omi - _Persia_ -" Ken said the name with a light sneer, "Told me where you were living. So I guess I just wanted to see how you were doing, you know? Not that I think you'd care, so thanks for letting me in."   
  
*****  
  
He ran a hand through his hair after Ken left, and frowned at the stain on the wood top of the coffee table. A perfect circle of damage, right next to the coaster.  
  
Ken had said it was only a visit, his trip abroad. He loved his job at the school, but then again, they had schools in Australia.  
  
A small smile ghosted on his lips.   
  
It had been good to see the soccer player happy. Prison had been good for him.  
  
Being away from Weiss had been good for him.  
  
It seemed his former teammates had moved on. The question, he supposed, was had he?  
  
Was this how the rest of them felt? The people they strove to protect? Wandering around blindly, chasing after memories and ideas, struggling to find meaning in a constructed, blind existence?  
  
Existing. Struggling to find an occupation while they waited.  
  
Or maybe his life as an assassin had simply trained him to see the destination more clearly. Maybe the rest of humanity simply didn't realize that they were all on a single train, waiting to get off.*  
  
He didn't try to remove the stain on his furniture. It would be an exercise in futility.  
  
It had been good to see Ken again. He honestly hadn't been sure he ever would, or have a reason to, after Weiss.  
  
Perhaps he was still counted as a friend.  
  
Ran was surprised to find it mattered.  
  
*****  
  
Omi, Yohji reflected, had become quite the bitch in his old age. He looked at the payphone he'd just hung up disgustedly.   
  
And he employed Schwartz now, no less. All of those bastards, not just the little one. Opportunistic son of a-  
  
 _Son of a Takatori._ He wondered if Ran had seen this coming, all those years ago. He felt that the man had a better grasp on the inner workings of Kritiker and the family that ran it than he did.  
  
 _But you respected Omi enough yet to work for him, didn't you?_ They all had, during that fiasco of an assignment that had cost Yohji his life.  
  
 _Or maybe that was wrong. The amnesia had actually given you the life you had wanted,_ Yohji mused. The problem was, it wasn't his bag. Turned out he didn't want it, once he remembered who the fuck he was.  
  
Didn't even want Asuka. At least, not that version. Model 1.3.  
  
It was almost funny, or it would be, if he wasn't painfully aware of how tragic it was. All he wanted resided in that damned past of his. The one he'd wanted so badly to forget.  
  
 _Shit._ Was Ran psychic? It seemed the man had once been aware of their futures without even realizing it. Warning Omi that he was a Tsukiyono, trying to tell Yohji he'd regret losing his memories.   
  
Fate was a bitch, too, it seemed.   
  
He adjusted his beige cowboy hat and strolled onto the sunny Tokyo side-street.  
  
*****  
  
"It was hard to find you."   
  
Ran, buried beneath the covers of his bed, started like a cat surprised out of his nap. He watched as it took Ran a split-second to locate him with his eyes, to grab the sword from beneath his bed, to press the katana to his throat. Yohji didn't move; he had been expecting it. He tipped his head back, exposing more of his skin, and kept his gaze even beneath the rim of his hat. The cold metal against his neck felt like memory.  
  
 _It had been damned hard to find Ran, actually._ With his memories back though, there wasn't much _Persia_ could say to keep them apart.  
  
A white, early morning sunlight was starting to tinge the sky outside the window to his left. It hadn't yet slipped through the blinds into Ran's room, but there was just enough light to see.   
  
Ran was wearing boxers, nothing else. His chest heaved, smooth skin rising and falling like the beat of a butterfly. It recalled things that would have made Yohji's breath catch, had he allowed it.   
  
He'd almost lived out the rest of his life, without remembering him. The thought brought a touch of panic.  
  
 _It was painful to know that he might not be allowed to touch Ran again._ The understatement of the century.   
  
Not that he would be able to blame him. It had been a long time. They were no longer Weiss teammates, there was no necessity or boundaries putting them in the same box.  
  
 _Even when I didn't remember who you were - you're like a black hole. You drew me right back to you._  
  
Those clear, piercing, familiar violet eyes searched Yohji's face thoroughly. He kept his own gaze blank. Ran deserved that, at the very least, after knowing where Yohji was for over a year, and saying nothing.  
  
"Who are you?" His old teammate hissed. Lying through his fucking perfect teeth.  
  
"Don't you know?" Yohji countered easily. "That's why I found you, you see. I think you know me."   
  
He leaned back further. Ran looked alarmed. Yohji put his arms casually behind his head, staring evenly at him. "So, tell me about myself, baby."  
  
*****   
  
Ran's own breath rattled in his ears.  
  
 _How had Yohji found him?_  
  
Yohji was wearing a ridiculous cowboy hat, and an equally nostalgic, unfortunate pink shirt with embroidery on the lapels.   
  
He didn't look like the businessman he'd observed watching him while he worked. He looked painfully like an old friend.  
  
 _He's someone else now. He's not Weiss. In his head, he never was Weiss. And he doesn't know who you are._  
  
Ran was probably like an echo to him. Something that reverberated, but no longer existed, in his awareness.   
  
"How did you find me?" Ran spat. "I could have you arrested."  
  
"A little bird told me," Yohji's lips held a familiar smirk. "Maybe I was a detective in a past life."  
  
*****  
  
Ah, that got a reaction. A slight flick of the eyes to the left.   
  
"Was I? I don't know. I've had amnesia, but I think you know that. Your sister called me by another name." Yohji fished. He ignored the blade still pressing against his throat.   
  
_Just admit it. Say you don't care that I was wandering around asleep, like a zombie. Let's get this over with._  
  
"I don't know you!" Ran snapped. There was a surprising touch of honesty to his eyes. "Get out!"   
  
He backed up, the katana finally lowered.   
  
The sight of him took Yohji's breath away. He was almost completely undressed, and yet he still looked as if he could kill.   
  
A parallel to the naked blade in his hand.  
  
"I'm not going anywhere, I still need answers," Yohji answered, leaning forward intently. "And I still think you're lying."  
  
*****  
  
Yohji had been completely unfazed by his threat. Was that instinct? Or could he still read people so much that he knew Ran wouldn't carry through?  
  
He wasn't leaving. Yohji's arms lowered to rest on his legs, and he leaned forward. Settling in.  
  
It was a nightmare come to life. Yohji had made Ran want him, first, he had made him realize and acknowledge a connection he'd _known_ would bring him this pain from the start. Then Ran had told himself no more bedside vigilence, no more waiting for someone he loved to wake up. Never again.  
  
What was this, except that?   
  
He'd come to Yohji, that night in the alleyway, and then Yohji had left Weiss. Yohji then returned to a new Weiss, only seeking to forget.   
  
He'd gotten his desire.   
  
Yet Yohji's return twice burned the memories and the feelings into Ran, despite his efforts to move on. Feelings he never would have called into awareness in the first place, without Yohji's persistence. It was like tearing open a healing wound. The hint of things that might have been, but never were, and now couldn't be, ran like fire through him. How could this much time have passed, and yet he still felt that same _pull_ to the man?   
  
How much longer could he sacrifice himself to see Yohji happy? When would he have nothing left?  
  
"If I did know you," Ran hissed finally, "What difference do you think it would make? You're not who you were. Move on with your life. Leave old ghosts to rest in peace!" He threw his katana to the side. It clattered across the floor. "You're better off not knowing."  
  
He closed his eyes. It was becoming painful to look at the echo sitting on his chair.   
  
"I was married," the voice was conversational. "Her name was Asuka. It didn't mean much to me, her name."  
  
He would let Yohji say what he felt he needed to, so he would leave. His voice continued in familiar tones.  
  
"She was a good woman, but the divorce was finalized a few weeks ago. Sometimes things just don't mean what they're meant to, yanno?"  
  
Ran's eyes flew open. Yohji's green ones were clear, and serious.   
  
"I'd put Asuka's ghost to rest a long while ago. The real Asuka, that is. That was why her name meant nothing to me, when I couldn't remember the real woman. But you, Ran - I couldn't shake your ghost. I kept seeing you there, and every time I did I kept stopping. Sometimes for an hour, just to watch you, did you know that? I had to tell Asuka I'd worked late."  
  
Ran stumbled backward. The backs of his knees hit the bed, and he sat.   
  
"Ran?"  
  
"You remember." His own tone was flat in his ears.  
  
He looked up, and found Yohji had moved to stand by the bed. His face was grim. It contained a trace of that same world-weary expression that he wore during the stint at Kua Academy, but also more of what Ran had remembered from before. A light humor that had at the time been a farce for the flowershop.   
  
"Why didn't you tell me, Ran?" And there was that familiar pain.   
  
"You were happy!" Ran growled, and was alarmed that his voice broke. He launched to his feet, fists balled. "Don't you understand - how long have you known who you are, Kudoh?!"  
  
*****  
  
There was the old Ran. The one that still had fight in him.   
  
Pain was scrawled across his features.   
  
It made Yohji wince.   
  
"Only a few weeks, I had to get things with Asuka and inside my head sorted out. I'm sorry." He said, and realized he should have said it a lot sooner. It stopped Ran mid-yell. He raised his arms by his sides, hands spread. "I'm sorry, Ran."  
  
Ran looked like he was fighting with himself, silently.   
  
The damage of the years was starkly, immediately clear. Yohji's voice was soft. "I had chosen to remember, don't you remember? I said I would live. I didn't choose this."  
  
"Who are you now?"  
  
It took Yohji by surprise. What was his name? Which version was he? Which identity would he keep, Ryo or Yohji? There were a lot of things, he figured, a question like that could mean. "Not everyone's favorite Yohji Kudoh," he said with a wry smile.   
  
The war was still going on. He could see it in those violet eyes. The rest of Ran's face was as still as death.  
  
The sunlight had turned yellow, and was sneaking across the floor to brush against their legs. It was striped with the shadow of the blinds. Now that Yohji could focus, he saw that Ran's room was as much like a moritorium as it had ever been, back when he was Aya.   
  
_Haunting ghosts._  
  
Was that what Ran thought of himself? Just an empty body? He could see it in his face, in the decisions he was making.   
  
"Dammit, Ran!" He suddenly snapped. "Aya!"  
  
Those eyes locked on his face, flatly devoid of anything but anger.  
  
"I see it now. You've given up on yourself, and so you gave up on me. No, don't fucking argue. I don't care what you thought you were doing. Guess what, Fujimiya. Weiss is over, and somehow, we made it. We're alive, and here I am. I fucked up, and I must have fucked you up while I was doing it. But somehow I was allowed to find you. Let yourself fucking _care_ about this!"   
  
In retrospect, he should have seen the punch coming. He held onto his jaw, looking reproachfully up at Ran. He straightened quickly at his expression.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ran-" he said quickly. "Shit, shit. Ran, wait!"   
  
The other man was turning away from him. He grabbed his arm. Ran turned toward him, his eyes reproachful.  
  
They were glistening, in the early morning light, with unshed tears.  
  
"I'm not-" Yohji's voice caught.   
  
_When are you gonna learn, Kudoh? When the fuck are you going to learn? Why the fuck do you even bother, when nothing good is gonna come out of anything you fucking try -_  
  
"Fuck. Ran. Let's go back to the beginning. It was a long time ago, but I knew, I knew this was going to happen. That we were going to destroy each other, or save each other, and God help me, I'm never gonna learn, and we both fucking know it, but I hope it's the latter." Yohji swallowed heavily. His fingers were shaking on Ran's bicep. "I want it to be the fucking latter!"  
  
Suddenly, the room spun, and he found himself flat on his back on the bed. Ran was crouched over him, arm across his windpipe. "You can't leave," Ran asserted.  
  
Yohji almost laughed, but the statement held a reminder that was all too somber. While he had slept, at least he'd had a wife. His voice was soft. "Never again, Ran."  
  
The other man seemed to turn his answer over in his mind, checking for loopholes. His body was tense, and hard.  
  
 _All of it,_ Yohji noted. _Thank God, at least his body wants me..._  
  
Ran's eyes refocused. "Maybe I should have said it, before." His mouth was drawn down in an unhappy line. "I don't think I knew, Yohji." One thumb suddenly brushed his cheek. Yohji bent his head into the touch, and Ran immediately drew his hand back to rest on the bed, as if he'd frightened it away. "I love you."  
  
 _Breathe, you idiot._ It took a second for his body to heed his command. "Oh, fuck, Aya," he said. "Ran. _Goddammit._ " He gave a shaky laugh. "You can't get rid of me. I love you. _Fuck._ I love you, Ran."  
  
They were silent. Ran seemed to forget that he didn't need to hold him down any longer. His eartails hung in front of his face, which seemed to be trying to look hopeful. It wasn't quite succeeding.  
  
Yohji grinned at the younger man, despite the prospect of getting punched. "Nice position we're in."  
  
Ran thought for a moment, then seemed to reach a decision. A smile, a real one, crept across his face. "I think so."  
  
The smile turned feral.   
  
Ran bent down, and Yohji lifted up. They fell down as their lips met, bodies coming together frantically, trying to catch up from lost years.  
  
*****  
  
*The reference about the train is taken from Lermontov's "A Hero of Our Time"  
  
*****  
  
 _Fin._  
  
*****


End file.
